


You're So Sober

by CannibalKats



Series: Counting Stars [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Jaehee/MC, Drug Addiction, Hand Jobs, Jaehee's route, M/M, Making Out, Phone Sex, Pining, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Yoo7, background SaeZen, depression wanks, yooseven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Seven loves Yoosung but between his job and his brother it's never the right time.  And then Yoosung meets a girl and time starts to run out.Previously titles Counting Stars





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This goes with my fic Coming Clean.

If he had to guess, Seven would say that the moment he realized he was in love with Yoosung Kim was not some great life changing event.  It was a light bulb moment, not unlike the multiple light bulb moments he had every day.  It was the revelation that the simplest answer was the correct answer. 

It was inconvenient.

They were sitting at Jaehee’s Café, he was sandwiched between Zen and Jumin doing his best to egg them on when Kit had stood abruptly and the entire table had sighed.  He wasn’t immune, the party had been a few weeks before and every member of the RFA was still a little in love with their newest member.  But she only had eyes for Jaehee, it had been clear to everyone _but_ Jaehee that they were basically a couple.

They lived together, they owned the café together, they sat much too close together at meetings and if _Jumin_ could tell they were flirting, well Seven wanted to be there when Jaehee realized it. And he got to be. Kit had sighed and stood watching the hipster strum a guitar in the corner while he rambled about a flower he’d seen and compared it to a girl he’d probably never spoken to.

They’d all been quietly laughing at it.  The little collection of instruments Jaehee kept in the corner had proven endlessly entertaining.  It was largely people like this pretentious hipster or people with actual talent but Seven liked the very passionate and very tone deaf individuals who would come in.  They’d order a coffee they didn’t drink, wait until the place was near empty and then sing their hearts out.

He always cheered loudest for them.

When the Hipster stopped he watched Kit shake his hand and compliment him.  She stood there in front of the guitar, crooked in it’s stand, staring behind the counter as Jaehee smiled at her through the dessert display.

Everyone else had gone back to their conversation; no one else even noticed that she’d sat herself on the stool with the guitar.  No one looked up when she started playing, but then her voice rang across the little café and Yoosung’s head turned.

Seven liked the lazy smile that spread across his face, he forgot about Jumin and Zen and entertaining himself with their little squabble, he liked watching Yoosung watch Kit.  Jaehee had come around the front of the counter, leaning against it with her hands in her apron and her head cocked to the side.  Yoosung started to clap along and Seven looked away from him long enough to notice Kit start to smile.

Zen picked up the beat, Kit slipped off the stool and was walking towards Jaehee but Seven was watching Yoosung, smiling, clapping Yoosung, mouthing the words soundlessly to himself, the way he chewed on his lip when Kit dropped to her knees in front of Jaehee.  Zen was excitedly slapping at his arm, but he wasn’t even watching the women.

He was watching Yoosung, the pink tinting his cheeks when Jaehee pulled Kit to her feet and the way he covered his face when Jaehee kissed her.  The entire Café erupted in a cheer, Zen propelled himself out of his chair at the two women to congratulate them, even Jumin was smiling softly to himself whispering _finally_ as he sipped his tea.

But Seven was still watching Yoosung, the way he looked away and sighed and fidgeted with the zipper of his hoodie.  When Yoosung stood abruptly and declared he had to go, had to study Seven had found himself standing.

“I should go too,” he said following Yoosung’s eyes and watching Jaeehee tying an apron on Kit while she laughed, “can I drive you home.”

Yoosung shrugs as the women approach the table. “Going home already?” Kit says with a playful pout.

“I have to study,” Yoosung mumbles looking away when Jaehee’s arm sneaks around Kit’s waist.

“I’m happy to hear it,” Jaehee was smiling ear to ear, Seven hadn’t seen her smile like that since she stood on the stage at the party, and never before.

His heart felt heavy following Yoosung out of the cafe, “Come on Yoosung I’m parked over here,” he nods his head in the direction of his car.  Not his Silver-Baby, that was still in the shop while he argued with Jumin over whether or not it was more prudent to repair or replace, he was in his Red car, not as flashy as his Baby but it would have to do for now.

He contemplates the feeling he’s having, Yoosung seemed upset almost by what had happened.  He wondered if he still had a crush on Kit, had he been holding out hope that the two women had actually only been friends despite everything?  The thought made his chest tight.  Was he jealous of Kit or worried about Yoosung.

When he stops in front of his car Yoosung walks into him. “Beep beep earth to Yoosung!” He calls out.

“Oh, sorry” Yoosung chirps, “I didn’t, I’m sorry I thought.”

“Baby is still in the ICU, Jumin is _negotiating_ her medical expenses.”

Yoosung chuckles a little and slips around the other side of the car while Seven unlocks the doors.

“You didn’t have to leave too,” Yoosung says once they’re on the road.

Seven shrugs, “I was done, Zen and Jumin were too distracted by the girls to be fun anymore anyway.”

Yoosung laughs again and Seven can’t help the stupid grin that spread across his face.   The laugh doesn’t last long and soon Yoosung is sighing and staring out the window forlornly.

“Yoosungie,” Seven teases, “you look so sad Yoosungie, is studying that bad?”

He jumps a little and looks sheepishly at Seven.

“Oh no Yoosung,” Seven says in mock horror, “were _you_ still holding out hope, did you think _you’d_ get the girl?”

Yoosung’s face drops and Seven curses himself.  That had been a bad joke, it had come out more bitter than he’d meant.  Or had he meant it bitterly?  He wasn’t sure.

“It’s not,” Yoosung starts, “ _I don’t_ ,” he sighs.  “I know, I’m not— I don’t have crush on Kit it’s just, they’re so happy, did you see them?”

Seven chuckles. “ _Everyone_ saw them.”

“It’s stupid,” Yoosung groans, “I’m _jealous_ , I wasted all that time on video games when I was slacking off and now I’m working so hard to play catch up I probably wouldn’t notice if a girl _did_ try to ask me out.”

“You’re pretty cute,” Seven shrugs, “and now that you shower regularly and show up to class I’m sure girls will _make_ you notice.”

“Even if they did,” he trails off.  “Everyone has more experience than me,” he sighs, “the other day Jumin tried to give me girl advice, Seven.  _Jumin Han_.  Jumin has more experience than me and he doesn’t even _want_ to kiss anyone.”

Seven tries not to laugh at that.

“I was too busy to date in high school, and now I’m too busy to date in University, by the time I graduate I’ll be the world’s oldest virgin and no one will want to kiss me.”

“Except for the puppies,” Seven teases.

But Yoosung groans.

“Someone will want to kiss you Yoosung,” Seven says softly as he parks by Yoosung’s building.  _I want to kiss you_ , he thinks.  He slaps a hand over his mouth and Yoosung glances at him.

Did he say that out loud or in his head.  Sometimes he did that, said a thing with his mouth he meant to say in his head.  Yoosung raises an eyebrow and cocks his head and that’s when he realizes it, that’s the moment it all clicks, the heavy feeling, it was jealously.  He was worried that Yoosung liked Kit, worried Yoosung was hurt, worried he was _too late_.  He was in love.

“That’s weirdly nice of you?”

Seven shrugs, this wasn’t good, this was trouble.  He had so much to do before he was supposed to let himself have these kinds of feelings.  “Good luck studying Yoosung.”

It’s a few days later when he sees Yoosung again.  He’s not sure what compels him to stop outside Yoosung’s building.  Things were about to get bad, he was probably going to die, he didn’t need to be here. 

He had _needed_ to talk to Jumin, he couldn’t tell him exactly what was going to happen, or when, or why, but he knew Jumin would take it in stride.  Step One was going to be the easy part but Step Two would need Jumin’s resources and no questions and while they butted heads Jumin ultimately trusted Seven, if only because V did. 

He’s still trying to talk himself out of this, when he hears Yoosung’s voice over the intercom.

 _Don’t answer him get back in your car you big idiot_ , “Hey open the door,” he answers instead.

He can hear the click of the door lock and reaches out cursing himself the whole way up the stairs to Yoosung’s apartment.  He couldn’t tell him anything.  Couldn’t tell him he was leaving or why or where, he shouldn’t even be here.  If the agency suspected anything at all, if they saw him here? 

“You never come to my place,” Yoosung says when he answers the door.

“I was just in the area,” he shrugs. “I only have a minute just wanted to,” _wanted to what?_ He asks himself.

“Oh are you _working_ ,” Yoosung says the word with air quotes before he flops into his desk chair

“What?” Seven scoffs, Yoosung was both the smartest and the dumbest person he knew sometimes, he loved that about him.

“Did you sneak in here because someone is tailing you?” Yoosung chuckles.

And suddenly Seven is very worried, he’s not sure why, no one _was_ following him.  His fears about the agency were mostly paranoia, they had no idea what was coming.  Seven had already recruited his handler.  Step One only took one person but Step Two would require someone on the outside.

“Yoosung,” Seven says with his hands firmly on the blond boys shoulders, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Yoosung looks up at him, startled by the sudden seriousness. “I was just joking, Seven. I didn’t—”

He lets go and plasters a goofy smile on his face dragging Yoosung into a hug and cooing, “I would never risk my little Yoosungie!”

“Ugh, let go,” Yoosung whines prying himself free of Seven’s arms.

Seven laughs and ruffles his hair. “I was really just in the neighborhood,” he shrugs, “but look at the time, places to be you know?”

Yoosung shrugs and waves as he turns back to his computer. 

It would be months before Seven saw Yoosung again.

Getting Vanderwood on his side had been easy.  The Agency had changed, Vanderwood had explained, it had stood for something when they’d been recruited but now it sold their services to the highest bidder.  Sure their methods had been questionable and sure there was a certain grey morality to the job but lately they’d found themself feeling some kind of way about the work they were given and feeling on its own had been a bad sign.

They set up a rendezvous point, a safe house in the mountains near the _castle_ , and he gives Vanderwood almost everything he’d promised them, a new identity and all the papers they’d need to prove it and sets to work erasing the both of them from every server he can access, which he hopes is most of them.

The rest was simple really, the boss was a man of simple tastes, getting him to open the email with the worm was easy enough, making sure it was _him_ they called in to fix it was a little harder but it got him access to the few servers he hadn’t been aware of, he could wipe them clean, make it as though the two of them had never been recruited and that was when he slipped into the bosses office.

“We need to talk.”

It had been freeing in a sense to let himself be Luciel.  Cold and sharp and ready to die.  Playful, teasing 707 had always served him well, especially here.  He was unassuming, just a goofball who was good in a pinch and better behind a desk.  No one got too close to him because his jokes were inconvenient and he was starting to suspect that Vanderwood had been assigned as his handler as punishment.

He hoped, if things went south, Vanderwood would do what he’d asked before he ran.

 It had gone better than he expected. It had been tense, and he was certain more than once that _this_ was the going to be the moment he bit it.  Weapons were drawn, words were exchanged but in the end it was clear that he was not going down alone, he had client lists, years of data and enough information to end more lives than his own.

And as far as anyone was concerned, Vanderwood was dead.

And now so was he, at least as far as the Agency and it’s clients were concerned.  He understood of course, and he was a little disappointed that it wasn’t his idea.  He’d pulled off some incredible shit for some horrible people who would want him dead or under their thumb. 

“What is this list,” the Boss growls, “I offered you a last meal who the fuck eats like this?”

Seven smirks and shrugs.

In the end two people know he’s alive.

He hates this car, this unassuming black sedan.  He’d loved his baby, how she stood out but left him anonymous, he liked to stand out like that, just another asshole in a fast car.  But that was too dangerous now.  He’d cut and colored his hair, traded his signature glasses for something unassuming and started to dress like he was some kind of professional.

He said goodbye to Luciel.  That bridge was burned and a part of him was glad that asshole was dead.  Saeyoung was sad but he’d been secret, he was safe.  Sad felt right for a man in a suit.  And there was always Seven to fall back on.

He gave himself a week to get to the safehouse near the castle.

“Look at _you_ ,” Vanderwood teased when they met him outside, “not even a little dead.”

“That’s not what our records say,” Seven shrugs.

Vanderwood frowns. “I thought—”

“It’s a figure of speech, there are no records, it’s fine, it went, not perfect but we’re fine, they think I killed you and anyone dumb enough to look for me thinks I’m dead.” Seven drops his bag on the big bed in the little cottage and starts to change into something comfortable so he can check on the castle, check on the bunker, acclimate himself to the current situation.

“Looks like you didn’t get out of there as _clean_ as you’d like kid,” Vanderwood snorts when Seven turns around pulling a tshirt over his head.

He rubs at the bruise on his chest. “Yeah well the Boss thought it would be best to put on a convincing show.” He shrugs. “I got to do a trust fall off the roof, it was pretty fucking neat.”

“It’s good to see your sense of goddamned humor hasn’t died.”

Vanderwood has cleaned.  The cottage had been an abandoned piece of real-estate he’d found on a satellite and Seven had only been there once to change the locks and leave some gear but it looked comfortable and lived in and he quietly wondered if the other person had just gotten here like the two of them had talked about or if they’d been living her for the 2 weeks since he’d put his plan in motion.

Once they’ve eaten and he’s filled Vanderwood in on the Agency situation he sets to work with his computer.  He’d sold the bunker to Jumin and tasked him with setting some very specific renovations in play, when they were finished Jumin was given a code to reset the gate and leave the place be. He’d sworn the CEO to secrecy and Jumin had obliged.

All Jumin Han knew was that Seven was going to deal with the Hackers, he hadn’t given details but the man was smart.  Jumin had dropped hints during their meeting, attempts to get Seven to tell him if V was involved, where he might be going.  He’d made sure that Seven knew that _should_ he need help Jumin would provide it.

Right now watching the satellite feed on the castle he was very grateful for that offer.  In truth Seven couldn’t give a fuck what V was up to in the mountains, he was going to sneak in, shut down their servers and get his brother out. 

The deeper he’d gotten into Mint Eye’s files the worse everything had gotten.  It was clear V was involved, and it was clear everything happening in that castle was fifteen shades of fucked up.  He didn’t care either way, he only pulled communications he knew involved his brother.  He didn’t even get a name, every message Saeran sent was not just flagged but signed as Unknown.

Seven didn’t know who or what Savior was but he made a note to kill them if he got the chance.

Every report, every communication from his brother was another knife in his heart, another box to check in ways he’d fucked up, reasons he should have stayed.  Saeran was supposed to be happy, he had pictures of him smiling, they’d told him that they’d gotten him out, found him a home.  That he was being taken care of.

He can’t even watch the man that used to be his brother on the satellite feed anymore without feeling sick.

He sits down with Vanderwood, the two of them equals for the first time, and they hash out a plan, take stock of their resources.  Seven gives Vanderwood the last of their payment, a few more pieces of ID, a bank account and the promise of another large deposit if they all survive.

Getting into the castle is easy, getting to his brother is simple with Vanderwood in his ear, keeping him updated.  It’s running into V that throws the wrench in the works. 

He’s almost talked Saeran down, almost has him relaxed enough that he can get closer, tranq him and get him out, but when V sees them Saeran starts to scream. Good to know that even here in this hell no one trusts V either.

Then they’re taken to a room, the three of them, and thrown on their knees before _her_ and Seven can’t speak.  That’s where it all goes very wrong.

If she hadn’t put Saeran in a cell too, maybe he could have swung it better, and in retrospect it was probably a six in one half dozen in the other situation.  Maybe he could have reasoned with him, maybe he could have talked him back into something resembling reason. But trapped in a Cell together he could see exactly what had taken his brother.

He watched the drugs wearing off, he watched the tremors start, and when they were dragged back in front of Rika he noticed the glassy look in almost all the eyes surrounding him, especially the man dragging him by the arm with the 0.45 loose in his shoulder holster.

But Saeran had noticed too, and as the accusations start to fly he hopes to god Vanderwood has sent the message to Jumin.  When the gun goes off and Rika starts screaming Seven doesn’t look back.  Saeran freezes and drops the weapon in his hands and Seven scoops it up along with his brother’s frozen form. 

He gets him out, throwing the smaller twin over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and is just getting him out of sight, just starting to think that maybe he won’t need to use the tranquilizer in his pocket when he hears Jumin’s task force arrive.

That’s when Saeran starts to struggle, and that’s when Seven has to decide how to knock him out.

They stay in the safe house for a month.  Vanderwood makes some supply runs, they say they’re going to leave everyday but something about the twins keeps them there, keeps them forcing Seven to sleep and eat and helping care for his brother through the first stages of withdrawals. They convince Seven to contact Jumin Han and ask for help.

Help Jumin gives without question. Seven doesn’t ask what happened at the castle, doesn’t ask if _they_ survived.  He can’t decide if he wants to know right now, not watching Saeran go through _this._ Not when he has to restrain his brother most of the time to keep them both safe. 

He starts to talk to Jumin more regularly.  Looking back this was probably the moment he knew that decided he’d go back, to stop thinking of the Bunker as just another Safe house.  The other safe house was not _equip_ to handle his brother so Seven turns to Jumin.

Jumin Han who has somewhere perfect in mind, Jumin Han who also has a list of doctors that _might_ be able to help, even though Seven hasn’t told him exactly what his brother’s condition is.  He suspects that at least one of _them_ has survived, he’s not sure if he’s relieved, he’s not sure who he’d rather it is.

They part ways with Vanderwood to go to Jumin’s safe house and Seven is surprised to find he’ll miss them.  Jumin’s house is fully furnished and fully stocked, and rented under an alias.  It’s not difficult for Seven to assume this identity, he keeps his hair coloured, he gets a part time job to seem more normal.

Saeran starts to trust him more, starts to question his false memories and Seven hopes the doctor he has chosen is working.  He starts taking his brother to the clinic rather than having the doctor come to the house.  It’s another month before the rug is pulled out from under him.

He’s talking to Jumin on the phone.  The RFA has had another party, he can hear his brother rummaging around in the kitchen.  Looking for clean dishes he assumes, he’d fallen back into his slovenly ways without Vanderwood to nag him and Saeran didn’t seem to care.

“It was wonderful to watch Kit in action again,” Jumin reminisces. “A shame you missed it really, perhaps the next one.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, not really sure about anything anymore.

“Though it seemed as though everyone but me was paired off.”

“Jealous Juju?” He teases and then the words hit him. “ _Everyone_.”

He can almost see the way the other man’s ears would perk up. “Aside from Kit and Ms. Kang, Zen was paraded around by his new agent all night, I suspect against his will, and Yoosung brought a _date_.”

He swallows, “A _date_?  Our little Yoosungie had a _date_.”

“He insisted she wasn’t,” Jumin chuckles. “A very pretty young woman who has been tutoring him, she seemed quite enamored.”

“Well I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to hold your hand and spin you around the dance floor,” Seven tries with a forced chuckle.

Jumin grunts. “Have you decided when you will return?”

“Dunno, things are going pretty ok, we might stay here.”

“Do not take this the wrong way,” Jumin sighs and Seven can clearly picture the way he would pinch the bridge of his nose or pull at his sleeves in anticipation of a joke, “but your presence is _missed_.”

He changes the subject, asks about the café, about Zen’s show, he gets Jumin talking about Elly and listens to a long lecture about how he should _at least_ keep in contact via the chatroom, talk to the others.  Eventually he hangs up.  He checks on his brother.

It’s the next day when it happens.  He’s gone to work without having someone in the house with Saeran.  He’d been paying a nurse under the table just to hang out with him, make sure he didn’t hurt himself, make sure he ate and took his medication. Make sure he didn’t miss the appointments Seven couldn’t take him to.  Saeran’s doctor had suggested this stop on a trial basis.

He’d argued at first but the doctor made his point and Saeran had been staying alone for a week now, the nurse stopping by twice a shift to check on him but not staying.  When she’d called that morning and told him something came up he hadn’t even worried.

He’s leaning on the counter of the sweets shop he manages, the only person on shift since it’s midday in the middle of the week, and his phone rings.

“Is everything ok?” He asks when he sees Saeran’s number.

The response is garbled, slurred through broken sobs but he can catch the words _I fucked up_.

“Saeran,” he says standing up and reaching for his coat. “What’s going on what did you do?”

More mumbling and sobbing and he doesn’t bother to even lock the door as he rushes out, cursing himself for walking to work, cursing the nice weather that had tempted him to leave the car behind. He runs home, keeping his brother on the phone, keeping him trying to talk.

It’s not the blood on the floor that worries him so much as the half empty quart of vodka and the spilled bottle of pills.  His brother is sitting in the corner of the kitchen slumped over his knees with the phone still clutched to his ear, still mumbling.

He calls an ambulance, and he calls Saeran’s doctor.

Seven surveys the scene, as he cautiously approaches his brother. “I’m not you,” Saeran is mumbling.  The glasses he’d gotten his brother are crushed by the bottle, the knife is abandoned on the floor by the sink.

He can see four lines carved through the tattoo on his brother’s arm when he kneels down beside him.

“You don’t have to be me,” he says. “You shouldn’t be me.  I’m fucking awful.  Just be you, ok?”

“You hate me,” Saeran mumbles.

“That’s wrong,” he says softly, “that’s just what they did to you telling you lies.”

“Where is everyone then?” He drops the phone and his head bobs down and then up and he reaches out towards Seven. “If you don’t hate me where are all your _friends_ ,” he slurs and his head lolls to the side.

He’s reaching for Saeran when someone pulls him out of the way.  The EMTs are questioning him, questioning Saeran and everything is happening so fast.  He doesn’t know where the liquor even came from, had it been there when they moved in?  He didn’t know.

He didn’t know how many pills he’d taken, didn’t know when. 

After the first few days in the hospital Seven starts to suspect that something had happened with the nurse. Saeran has to be restrained, for the first week.  His doctor is baffled and Seven realizes that he can’t do this alone.  Can’t help his brother if there’s no one here to help him.

He waits, waits until his brother’s medication is adjusted, waits until the stitches are removed and he no longer has to be restrained.   Until the withdrawals end again and Seven wonders how he missed that he was using.

He doesn’t tell them he’s back when they get to the Bunker in the middle of the night. He suspects that Jumin probably knows but the man doesn’t let on. It’s been almost a year since he’d left and despite the fact that he came back because he needs them he can’t bring himself to reach out.

A portion of the garage has been walled off, turned into a room for his brother liked he’d instructed and when he goes to inspect it he almost cries.  Sitting in his garage, in her usual spot is his baby, shining like new.  Not a replacement but the same car Jumin had maliciously crashed.  For all his walls, Jumin had been certain he’d be back, even though he’d never truly planned to.

They’re in the bunker for a few weeks before he finally gets up the nerve to go in the chatroom.  But it’s still so hard to be 707, he doesn’t stick around.  Still he starts to lurk there more often and it’s a few days later he sees Yoosung at the gate.

The blond boy doesn’t try it, he just peeks around, trying to see in the windows, looking for, Seven wasn’t sure, some sign that someone lived here again?

“Why did we come here if you’re not going to talk to them?” Saeran asks him when they’ve been there a month.

“Do you really want them here?” He shrugs.

Saeran shrugs back, his hair is starting to grow back and Seven had given him back the contacts he’d worn at the castle.  Looking different seemed to help.  Seven calls Jumin over the next day. 

“So you _have_ returned then,” Jumin says stepping into the bunker. “And I suspect you’ve seen my gift.”

Seven laughs. “Yeah, I don’t think you get to call my Baby a _gift_ when you broke her in the first place.”

Jumin shrugs.  “You left quite a mess behind when you stole your brother from that hospital.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“For what it is worth, Doctor Chu looked into the nurse you hired and you were right.”

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth.  He hired her, he should have known but he was so limited in options he didn’t even do a proper background check.

Jumin holds up a hand. “He seemed surprised, he was _apologetic_ , I am aware that he recommended her.  I assure you she is being dealt with.”

“The damage is done Jumin.” Seven frowns.

“Never the less I wanted to inform you that I have people working with the drug your brother had been given _before_ , I thought you should know.  It seemed prudent to make sure his recovery was being treated effectively, also to be certain of long term effects.”

“The long term effects are that I’m a fucking mess,” Saeren snorts coming out of the hall, “forever.”

“Jumin this is my brother,” Seven says standing up, ready for anything.

Jumin nods towards Saeran. “Yes, that seems like the simplest way to put it.  How are you feeling Saeran?”

The smaller twin shrugs and scratches at the scars on his arm. “Don’t feel like dying today, if that’s what you mean.”

Jumin chuckles. “I suppose that is a good start.”

Seven is pretty sure he sees Saeran smile before he disappears back down the hall.

“He seems _better_ than I expected somehow.” Jumin remarks.

“He still has a lot of bad days,” Seven shrugs.

He doesn’t stay much longer, he informs Seven that both V and Rika survived their wounds but Rika had passed on shortly after.  Seven doesn’t press him for the how or the whys of it, he does make certain that Jumin is sure she’s dead _this time_.  V is away, Jumin informs him.  He’s stepped down from the RFA and he is on a _sabbatical_.  Seven takes this to mean V is in rehab.

It’s a few days later when he decides to give up his disguise.  Jumin has called _him_ this time and invited him to the C &R building for an interview. He knows Seven can’t stay long so he’s quick to propose that he work for the company under the guise of running the IT department. Jumin thinks it would be prudent to have a talented hacker on staff, protecting their files and pulling information he may need on prospective clients.  The cherry being that he could work remotely and continue to care for his brother.

It’s not really something he can say no to. 

The temporary colour he’s been putting in his hair has worn off, his hair had grown out and catching his reflection in the window he smiles, he looks like himself again.  When he gets home he digs out is striped frames, his signature hoodie, his transformation is complete.

He’s on the old squeaky couch with Saeran eating celebratory containers of ice cream and arguing about what to watch when he hears the gate alarm.  It’s late, and Jumin wouldn’t want to see him twice in one day.

“You’re boyfriend is here,” Saeran says glancing at his brothers phone.

Seven hides his phone in his sweater and stares at his brother for a moment.  It was still early days, and Saeran’s bad days could lean towards catastrophic, but in moments like this where he teased instead of snapped Seven could see the future.   He could see the brother he dreamed of saving.

Saeran smirks as he shoves a too big spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. “I’m fucking joking, are you just gonna leave the twink on the stoop or what?”

Seven glances back at the security camera feed, Yoosung seems to be _yelling_ , or at least sternly talking to the gate.  He looks back at his brother. “Are you, is it _ok_ if I let him in?”

“It’s you’re fucking house,” Saeran snorts.

“If I let him in,” Seven says carefully, already entering the override code, “can you be, _nice_ to him?”

“Are you saying I’m _not_ fucking nice?” Saeran frowns, shoving more ice cream in his mouth.

“Yoosung isn’t Jumin ok, you can’t,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “Don’t make him cry ok?”

“Jesus Christ Saeyoung,” Saeran snorts, “what kind of monster do you think I am.”

“I don’t—”

Saeran is smirking as he shoves more ice cream in his mouth but Seven can’t finish because the Bunker door crashes open and slams shut and Yoosung Kim is standing in his living room _glaring_ at _him_.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But what was Yoosung doing while Seven was gone?

It’s not _strange_ for Seven to disappear for a few weeks.  Yoosung knew sometimes his job kept him locked down or sent him to strange places.  He was a little jealous, of course the one time he’d said as much he’d endured an uncharacteristic lecture from Seven.  He _knew_ being a secret agent was dangerous, but sitting in class trying to focus on this lecture he couldn’t help but long for a little bit of that.

By the third week Yoosung starts to worry.  He thinks back to the last time he’d seen Seven, that look in his eye when he’d scolded Yoosung for a joke about his job.  He’d seemed _scared_ in that split second before he’d smiled and teased him.  It was hard to read Seven but Yoosung thought he did a pretty good job and that look, the one _before_ the smirk, had seemed genuine.

“Pst,” Mina is smiling at him when he looks at her over the book covered table in Jaehee’s Café, “you zoned out there, you ok?  Is this getting through?”

He stifles a yawn and shakes his head. “No, no, I uh, I think I understand I just—”

“Raged all night?” She snorts.

He shrugs and blushes. “Yeah, I guess.”

Mina had been tutoring him for two weeks now.  The more Jumin had pushed for him to become his assistant the more certain Yoosung was about _not_ wanting to work for him.  Watching Kit and Jaehee, and just how happy this café had made them had strengthened that resolve and he’d gotten a tutor.

He needed to audit at least three classes this semester to get back on track and studying didn’t come as naturally to him as it once had.  He listens to Mina talk about the work in front of him.  The way she smiles a little every time she looks up at him.

She was pretty, and when Zen had seen them studying last week he’d teased Yoosung that she liked him but, she was two years older than him, and she was just being nice.  Besides he paid her to tutor him 3 nights a week. You’re not supposed to flirt with girls when they’re just doing their jobs right?

It’s a few days later when the weird message appears in the chat.  Yoosung and Kit had been the only people in the chat.  Mina had excused herself to the washroom and he was sitting on the far end of the café while Jaehee argued with customer over some small thing; he and Kit been sending each other memes, making fun of the man insisting that he wanted to speak with the manager.

[707 has entered the chat]  
[707]: 118.382643, 72.575154  
[707]: Jumin Han  
[707 has left the chat]

Kit and Yoosung stare at each other from across the room. “That was weird right?” Kit says cautiously, and the tone of her voice makes Jaehee stop.

The customer arguing with her snaps his fingers in her face and Jaehee reflexively grabs his hand looking to her girlfriend for an explanation while he whines and tries, unsuccessfully, to free himself. Kit just holds up her phone.  She lets the man’s hand go and he makes some sound of relief. “I’m going to call the owner,” he threatens.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she frowns at him taking Kit’s phone from her.  “You’ve been arguing with the owner for five minutes, please find somewhere else to underappreciated your coffee.”

“What did I miss,” Mina asks slipping back into her seat and smiling at Yoosung.

But he doesn’t notice, doesn’t even respond he’s pushing away from the table and making his way to the counter.

“These are coordinates,” Jaehee says matter-of-factly.  “Has anyone called Jumin about this?”

Yoosung and Kit shake their heads as Mina steps up behind them.

“I’m very sorry, you’re going to have to leave,” Jaehee says not unkindly and Mina’s eyes go wide for a moment.

“We uh,” Yoosung stammers moving to get her things for her, “this is, uh.”

“The café is closing for an _emergency meeting_ ,” Kit helps holding the door open.  “I’m very sorry, I’m sure Yoosung can make it up to you.”

He blushes and tries to glare at Kit as he walks Mina to the door.  Jaehee is on the phone with Jumin when Kit turns the lock.  Zen shows up later and Jumin refuses to tell anyone what the message means.  Kit and Jaehee do their best to figure out where the coordinates point to, mostly just to busy themselves and Zen and Yoosung stay in the chat, hoping to see Seven again.

Nothing they can find gives them any clues, and Yoosung has never missed Seven more than in this moment.

“It’s apropos,” Jaehee muses as the four of them start to wane, “if he were here we would know what this means.”

“If he were here,” Yoosung says, the bite to his words unexpected, “we wouldn’t _need_ to know.”

He ignores the texts from Mina, and sends a few to Seven, but he hears nothing back, no one does. 

Yoosung has fallen asleep on the table, when Jumin knocks on the door.  He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, how long they’ve been there, waiting for some kind of sign. 

Jumin frowns as Kit fumbles with the lock. “I’m not surprised to find you all here,” he says coolly, “pointless as it was I did suspect you would all feel as though you need to do something.”

“God, could you shut up,” Zen yawns.

“Jumin,” Kit scolds, “what is going on, where is he?”

Jumin shrugs.  “I couldn’t tell you where he is.  He was not there when my men arrived; I’m told that in those first moments it was pandemonium. “

“What does that even mean,” Zen groans.

Jumin’s eyes narrow. “Shall I find you a dictionary?”

“Jesus, fuck off, Jumin,” Zen starts.

“Shut up Zen,” Yoosung isn’t sure what compels him to step in, or to be so harsh. “What do you mean Jumin, what is going on?”  Jumin’s eyes are sad when he looks at him and Yoosung suddenly doesn’t want to know. “Nevermind,” he says quietly, grabbing his bag from the back of his chair. “It’s fine, he wants it secret, I can respect that.”

Zen’s hand on his arm stops him and Jumin carefully holds his shoulders to make him sit.  He pulls up a chair as the four of them watch him.  Yoosung chews on his lip and he can see Zen fidget with a cigarette beside him, Jaehee and Kit intertwine their fingers on top of the table and Yoosung can feel his heart sink. Jumin is going to tell them something bad.

He’s going to tell them Seven is dead.

Jumin wets his lips before he speaks. “Seven spoke to me before he left,” he says carefully, as if he were in a boardroom, “he did not tell me much, and most of what I was told has little to do with what happened today.”  Jaehee motions for him to move on and Yoosung can see that Jumin has practiced this. 

He can also see the wear on Jumin’s face, he notices the wrinkles in his suit, the way his hair is mussed from running his hands through it.  Yoosung tries to focus on Jumin’s hands while the older man finds his words.  His fingernails are dirty, his jacket doesn’t match his pants and Yoosung worries the smudge on his shirt sleeve could be blood.

“I’m certain there is more to it than what I know right now,” Jumin starts again.  Still speaking with little feeling, still as though this is a presentation in a boardroom, like he’s trying to sell them something.  “Seven left to deal with the Hackers.”

“They,” Yoosung starts but he freezes when everyone looks at him, “they weren’t a problem anymore,” he finishes quietly, “I thought, I u-uh thought it was dealt with when Kit, uh you know?”

Jumin’s eyes are soft when he looks at him, sad somehow.  “They were not _actively_ harassing us any longer, you are correct, but he had concerns.  As did I, if we’re being honest, and _suspicions_ that appear to have been, at least in part, correct.”

“Jumin get to the point,” Jaehee growls, “Is Seven ok?”

“I don’t know,” Jumin admits, “that message was not sent by him and he was not in the building when all was said and done.  Seven is not why I am here.”

They all perk up at that, everyone but Yoosung, still stuck on Seven still wondering exactly who sent that message, exactly where he might have gone.  He doesn’t notice when Jumin rests his hand on his arm.

“I cannot give details,” Jumin says seriously, “I am doing my part to handle this quietly as they requested but it is pertinent to tell you all, at least part of this.”  Jumin explains about the _castle_ briefly, and the Mint Eye cult, the state of the place when his people came through and Yoosung freezes when he says it.  Jumin Han’s voice is small and quiet when the words pass his lips. “You were right, Rika _was_ alive.”

He moves on quickly and Yoosung barely hears him mention V and some of the guests from the last party, he focuses on those three words; _Rika. Was.  Alive_.

“Was,” Yoosung interrupts. “I don’t, what does that mean?”  Zen’s hand is on his shoulder, firmly holding him in place while he tries to process the words. “She _was_ alive, you mean today, she _was_ alive when your _people_ got there?”

Jumin nods.  There’s nothing more he can say. “She was, I spoke to her briefly.  When the building was secured and I was able to enter she was alive, she was not,” he stops and frowns, trying to choose his words, “Rika was not, _Rika_ ,” he tries. “She spoke nonsense, her wounds were superficial and no one thought,” he trails off. “ _I_ didn’t think,” Jumin stops again, his composure breaking slightly he rests his head in his hands and takes a shaky breath.

“Yoosung,” Jumin doesn’t look at him, Jaehee and Kit get up from the table and busy themselves with a pot of coffee behind the counter. “I am sorry, her injuries were not concerning and Jihyun was in dire states, the _person_ Seven left to send the message was keeping me informed and I was,” Yoosung isn’t sure if the sound Jumin makes is a growl or a sob, “I was angry with her Yoosung, angry with both of them but she _seemed_ well enough, not one of us thought to,” one hand slips into his hair and there are tears in Jumin’s eyes when he looks at Yoosung. “She took something in the ambulance, I should have had them restrain her or check her but as incoherent as she was she hadn’t resisted, she was unresponsive when they arrived, and she passed shortly after.”

There’s something cold in Yoosung’s stomach, he wants to ask more questions but there’s something about the look on Jumin’s face that stops him.  He plays it over and over in his head while he listens to them push past, Zen asking about V, Kit setting coffees on the table in front of them, Jaehee is busy behind the counter as the sun rises, preparing to open the café despite not sleeping at all.

He doesn’t make it to the bathroom, he finds himself heaving over the small trashcan by the lids and creamers.  It’s Jumin who is beside him, a cool hand on the back of his neck while he empties his stomach. 

“I’m very sorry Yoosung,” Jumin is saying softly, the rest of the RFA are giving them a wide berth. 

He doesn’t move, besides stretching his legs out on either side of the can, still leaning over it.  Tears sting his eyes and he can hear Kit letting Zen out and moving to help Jaehee in the kitchen.

“I will accept any blame you wish to lay at my feet,” Jumin is saying, his voice low while he adjusts Yoosung’s clips to keep his hair out of his face.  One big hand rests on Yoosung’s back.  “Now is not the time,” he continues, reservation evident in his tone, “but V has made a few _requests_ regarding how we should handle this, considering the situation I feel those request should be, perhaps considered by you, you were her family.”

His stomach heaves but he manages to swallow down the urge to lose whatever’s left.  He swallows again for good measure and pushes the trash can away before pushing himself to stand on shaky legs. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice hoarse as he moves to pick the can up.  He should empty it at least.

Jumin shakes his head and takes it from him, holding it as far from himself as he can. “I will take you home,” he says firmly, a little relieved that he’s found something he can be certain of, “you can wait in my car while I figure out what to do with this.”

Jumin makes certain that Yoosung’s school will not penalize him for being absent for the rest of the week and though he argues he acquiesces and allows Yoosung to see Rika’s body after he’s slept. The next day Jumin visit’s Yoosung at home and explains the situation they are in.

The crimes that Rika commited as Savior, the people she harmed, Jumin includes the RFA in this.  He has records Yoosung can read if he _needs_ to know, he is clear that Yoosung is the _only_ member aside from Seven who is privy to this information.  Mint Eye had accrued considerable wealth, Jumin tells him, and they are distributing it to the victims to pay for their recovery. 

V doesn’t want to have a funeral. Yoosung argues but it’s easy to make him see the value in this.  Rika’s parents, Yoosung’s family, they don’t need to know she faked her death.  Of course it’s better, better for them, easier for Jumin and V, easier for her _victims_.

Jumin insists that Yoosung speak with a Doctor, he offers to take Yoosung to see V before he leaves.  He’s evasive when asked where V is going and Yoosung can’t bring himself to look at V right now. He does go to Jumin’s doctor, he comes home with bottle of pills.

The RFA plan another party on short notice, partly to distract their benefactors from V’s _choice_ to step down and partly to distract themselves from everything that’s happened.  The three weeks they take to plan is a blur, but Yoosung finds himself taking everything a little better.

As if the affirmation that he _wasn’t_ paranoid has given him a renewed sense of purpose.  He grieves, and he struggles but he feels lighter somehow.

It would have been difficult to hide the party from his tutor, still when Mina asks him if she’s invited over their study session Yoosung finds himself stammering.  It’s Kit who says yes, despite Jaehee’s elbow connecting with her ribs and he nods, a blush rising to his cheeks when Mina smiles and shifts from discussing their notes on the viscosity of cervical mucus during canine ovulation to whether or not she should buy a new dress.

By the time they’re walking into the party Yoosung has realized he’s an idiot.  She looks _gorgeous_ , she’d sent him texts from the salon, she’s hooked her arm around his as they walk through the doors and he can’t believe he’s let this happen.  He spends the party finding excuses to be away from her, feeling guilty hiding behind the stage trying to fix some technical problem that would have taken Seven all of a second.

She finds him, every time calling him back out, asking him to dance, to introduce her to people.  He takes solace in the fact that Zen seems to be having just as awful of a time as him.  When he manages for a moment to sneak outside and try to get some air the actor is already there, raising a cigarette to his lips. He smirks when he sees Yoosung.

“So,” Zen says in a puff of smoke, “I was right.”

Yoosung shrugs.

“Nerves?” Zen chuckles.

“N-no, not, not really.”

“Don’t worry about,” Zen smiles and ruffles his hair, “just relax and you’ll be fine.”

Yoosung isn’t sure he wants to be fine.  He’s not sure what he’s supposed to be fine with.  Nothing about this party seems _right_.  They don’t have Vs photos to sell, two of their members are missing or unavailable, and he has a _date._

She tries to kiss him in the car on the way home, and it goes _poorly_.  He wakes up to her quitting being his tutor in a text message and he finds he doesn’t really mind.

A few weeks later Seven is in the chat.  He doesn’t stay long, he doesn’t say where he is or if he’s coming back.  He deflects everything with jokes and leaves as quickly as he’d arrived.  A few days later Yoosung is supposed to meet some friends from school at their apartment for a game night when he finds himself walking past the bunker. 

He’s walked past more than once since Seven disappeared and not felt compelled to look but without even thinking he finds himself in front of the gate.  He doesn’t trip the sensor but he leans around it.  The few small windows no longer blacked out.  He thinks maybe he sees movement but it’s hard to tell in the shadows of the yard.  He stares for a moment, wondering if it was a tuft of red hair or the reflection of the leaves before he turns and gets back on his way.

A week later on the bus home after his morning class he sees him.  The bus is nearing the street the C&R building is on and he can see the silver car pull up and stop at the sign.  He starts to sit forward, feels his heart pounding in his chest as he scolds himself.  It’s not so rare a car, Yoosung doesn’t even know enough about cars to know if it’s the right make or model but then the bus passes.  His forehead resting on the window Yoosung can see the driver.

“Mother fucker,” he whispers and then gasps and covers his mouth.

His red hair is duller than normal, his shirt a bit more professional, and his glasses were plain but Yoosung is certain it’s his friend, his _best_ friend.  His best friend who _hasn’t even told him he was back_.

“I don’t know Yoosung,” Jumin says in a text later that night when he can’t keep it to himself any longer, “I couldn’t say if he _is_ back, I’m certain when he is ready to see us he will let us know.”

 _Liar_ , Yoosung thinks.  He’s sure that Seven had to have been meeting with Jumin.  If Seven didn’t want to see _him_ or anyone right now he could just tell them not to come.  He’d never had a problem before.  The more he thinks about it the more hurt he feels, the more hurt he feels the angrier he gets.

He tries to play LOLOL but he can’t focus, he keeps thinking he hears his phone, checking to see if it’s Seven, it’s not.  He keeps dying or wiping his group for what usually amounts to an imagined notification until finally they suggest he take a break.

He means to walk to the café, get some air and then talk to Kit and Jaehee, they always seem to know what to tell him.  Instead he finds himself standing in front of the gate at the bunker arguing with the automated voice prompt.  He’s made angrier by the lights he can clearly see on inside.

Seven is home, and Seven is _ignoring_ him.

He’s red in the face shouting at the stupid keypad and almost misses the sound of the lock releasing, probably would have if the pompous female voice hadn’t stopped.  He steps inside the gate, and takes a few deep breaths.  Can Seven even explain this.

Can he explain away his disappearance?  His radio silence?  Maybe he could, or maybe he would just deflect with a stupid joke, like usual.  Jumin had said, on that awful day, that Seven had left to deal with the hackers, had he been back the whole time?

No best to be angry, he tells himself, _don’t calm down Yoosung_.  He throws the door open and cringes a little when he hears it bang off the wall.

“I don’t—” Seven is saying and Yoosung narrows his eyes on him.

He doesn’t notice that it’s two heads turning to face him.  Doesn’t notice as a familiar looking man smirks around a spoonful of ice cream and settles back against the corner of the couch.

“Uh, H-Hey Yoosung,” Seven smiles.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s supposed to sound nonchalant, but the way his voice breaks and the nervous laugh that follows makes his greeting sound more guilty than carefree.

“Don’t,” Yoosung shakes his head, “d-don’t _Hey Yoosung_ , me!” He takes a few steps closer, tears threatening as he stares at his best friend.  “How long have you been back?”

“Yoosung,” Seven says coming around the couch, “it’s, it’s really complicated ok?”

“It’s really not,” Yoosung growls, “you could have said something in the messenger, or sent a text or—”

“Tell him he’s cute when he’s mad,” Saeran snorts climbing over the back of the couch instead of stepping between them, “used to work in the chatroom.”

“ _Saeran_ ,” Seven hisses as he covers his face with his hands and Yoosung struggles to find his words.

His brother shrugs and sticks the carton he’d been eating his ice cream from back in the freezer.  They watch as Yoosung’s mouth opens and closes, his brow furrows and he glances around the room almost frantically.

“I’m, uh, I-I didn’t, I—”

“Yoosung this is my brother,” Seven practically sprints to the kitchen, he tosses an arm over Saeran’s shoulder but Saeran shoves him off.

“You’re on your fucking own Saeyoung,” he snorts moving towards the hall, “wouldn’t want to make the baby cry right?”

“ _Saeran_ ,” Seven almost whines as he throws his brothers dirty spoon down the hall after him.

“ _Baby_?” Yoosung says, the anger back.

“That’s not what I said,” he pleads. “I just asked him to be nice.”

“To the _baby_?”

“He says things without thinking, I didn’t want him to make you c-cry, I—”

“—like a _baby_.” Yoosung interrupts furious that he can feel the tears spill over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Yoosung,” he tries, “that wasn’t what I meant he just, he’s still getting the hang of, you know?”

“The hang of what?” Yoosung screws up his face.

“People? I guess,” Seven shrugs.

Seven tears a piece of paper towel from the roll on the counter and hands it to Yoosung, they’d run out of tissues the day before but he had forgotten them when he stopped at the store today, he forgot so much.  Yoosung takes it and wipes at his eyes before he throws himself on Seven’s couch.

“How did you know I was back?” he asks when Yoosung looks up at him.

“I _saw_ you today, when I was on the bus,” and for a moment the look of betrayal on Yoosung’s face feels akin to the impact the bullet had made with his vest months before.  “Why didn’t you tell us, how long have you been back, I-I can’t believe you have a bother, where was he?”

The edge recedes from his voice with each question.

“I don’t know,” Seven says sitting away from Yoosung and drawing his knees up.

“Before or after the party?” Yoosung asks, the look on his face suggests that his answer would colour the mood.

“After,” Seven swallows, “it’s only been a few weeks.”

Yoosung runs a hand through his hair and lets out a relieved breath. “Why, after—ugh I— why aren’t you talking to us?” he finally manages to say.

“No one was supposed to _miss_ me,” he shrugs.  “And I didn’t know what to say, and what if you all wanted to come here?  I couldn’t, I don’t know.”

“Of course we missed you,” Yoosung leans forward to give him a little push, “that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and you have a brother, everyone is going to want to meet him!  You should bring him to the café to meet everyone.”

“No Yoosung,” Seven shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s ready for that yet.  He’s met Jumin and now he’s met you, let’s uh, let’s give him some time.”

“He’s met Jumin,” Yoosung repeats, and Seven can see the light bulb, the way the question forms in his mind.  The way Yoosung’s eyebrows knit together and he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth while he decides if he should ask. “Was he who sent the message _that day_.”

 _Fuck_ , he just shakes his head no, he doesn’t want to say something that would make Yoosung ask more questions or worse, cry again.  He doesn’t want to have this conversation right now when he’s not sure if Saeran can hear them.

“W-were you there at all?”

He nods, “Yoosung thi—”

“Did you see _her_?”

“Yoosung I, I don’t want to talk about her right now.” They both jump with the sound of a slamming door.

“B-but I—”

“If you _need_ to have this conversation we can talk about it later in texts or somewhere else but not where Saeran can hear I don’t want to,” he inhales remembering everything he saw at the Castle, every terrible thing he’s heard his brother talk about. “Yoosung, I don’t think you want the answers I have.”

“Why not wher—”

“ _Yoosung_ ,” he says firmly, “I know you have an _idea_ what was happening there, please.”

He watches Yoosung press his lips together and squeeze his eyes shut in frustration, he can see the wheels turning as Yoosung tries to process what little he’s been given and move on.  “He was the hacker, wasn’t he?”

Seven nods.

“Is he safe?”

Seven closes his eyes and swallows. “Mostly,” he says softly not sure how his voice will carry with the door shut, “to you, and Jumin and probably everyone else.  He’s recovering, he’s doing OK.  Today is a good day, or it was maybe not anymore.”

“Sorry,” Yoosung hangs his head.  “I didn’t—”

“No,” he doesn’t know why he does it but he pulls Yoosung into a hug, “it’s my fault, you didn’t know, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” Yoosung nods and mumbles into Seven’s sweater.

When he lets Yoosung go, they sit awkwardly for a few minutes in silence.  “Do you want to watch a movie?” Seven asks

“Are you going to get a call and kick me out in the middle of it?” Yoosung frowns.

Seven laughs. “No, definitely not.”

“You said that last time.”

“Oh,” Seven smiles wide pushing himself up off the couch, “my sweet little Yoosungie,” he sing songs, “didn’t you know you’re looking at a dead man?”

Yoosung frowns. “You’re not a ghost Seven,” he shakes his head and crosses his arms. “That is the laziest joke you’ve ever tried on me.”

Seven cackles. “No no, that’s not what I mean. Agent 707 is dead, no more Luciel Choi.  I quit and they shot me, fell off a roof.  Splat, super dead.”

“You got _shot_?” Yoosung leans forward.

Seven thumps his chest over his heart as he walks backwards into the kitchen.  “Shot through the heart,” he sings loud and off key, “and _you’re to blame_.”

He cackles and Yoosung blushes.

“Hey you should go see if Saeran wants to watch with us,” Seven climbs up on the counter and reaches for a box on the top shelf.

“ _Me_?” Yoosung squeaks.

“Yeah you’re right,” he shrugs. “Get some drinks out of the fridge, Saeran likes those sweet coffee drinks.”

It’s nice really.  Having Yoosung back in his house, even if it had been a rough start things had swung back around and it felt _normal_ , like any of the other rare occasions that he’d invited Yoosung over to hang out. He knocks on his brother’s door, “I’m coming in OK?”

“Whatever.”

Saeran is laying on his bed with his hands on his chest snapping the plastic beaded bracelet his therapist had given to him.  Seven can see the bottle of pills on his nightstand. “I’m sorry.”

Saeran shrugs and snaps the bracelet. “I didn’t need them.”

“T-that’s a good thing right?”

He snaps the bracelet again.  “Sure.”

“We’re going to watch a movie,” he says sitting on the edge of the bed, “if you want to come out?  You might like Yoosung, he’s a uh, he’s a really good listener, you know?”

Saeran snorts.  “Yeah?  Does he know you’re in love with him?”

Seven freezes as his brother sits up and walks past him.  He tries to will himself to follow, _come on, you’re asshole brother is going to rat you out_ , he shouts inside his head, but then his brother’s shaggy head peeks around the edge of the door frame.

“Are we gonna watch a movie or what?” He smirks.

The movie goes well, Saeran stays for more than half of it before leaving abruptly and not coming back and when Seven peeks in his room after Yoosung leaves his brother is sleeping soundly, and none of the usual alarms go off during the night.  It’s the first time since the incident that Saeran has slept more than a few hours at a time.

When Yoosung calls the next day Seven braces himself for the questions, for the horrible things he’ll have to tell him but Yoosung surprises him.

“I uh, I looked at the reports Jumin had,” Yoosung says quietly, his voice is hoarse and Seven can tell he’s been crying. “Last night when I got back, I’d been avoiding them I thought I could get someone to just tell me.”

“If you want to ask me anything,” he says, not wanting to think about it but knowing Yoosung might need more closure than whatever Jumin’s people had put in those papers.  “I don’t, uh I don’t know much more than what I saw that day and a few things Saeran has said.”

“No,” Yoosung says firmly.  “I don’t want to think about it.  If I change my mind I’ll ask V when he comes back.”

 _If he comes back_ , Seven thinks.  V had been in pretty rough shape when he’d left them there and Seven couldn’t deny that regardless of his complacently V had also suffered there.  “Does anyone else know?” Seven asks.

“Oh no, no they don’t,” Yoosung says quickly.  “Kit and I saw the message in the chatroom, and Jaehee called Jumin, and I called Zen.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you tried to call me.” Seven says.

“No,” Yoosung says his voice cracking, “it’s ok, if we’d have known what was happening we wouldn’t have tried we were just worried.  Kit and Jaehee figured out where the coordinates pointed to but there was nothing there that we could see and Jumin wouldn’t tell us anything until after.”

“What _do_ they know?” He asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Just that you weren’t there when Jumin got there, and that V and Rika were, and that,” he swallows, “she killed herself.  I’m the only one he told the whole story to; I think V told him to.  But he never said anything about your brother.”

“Jumin didn’t know about Saeran until later,” Seven says.  “He uh, I needed to get him to an actual doctor so I asked Jumin for help but I made him swear to keep it a secret.”

“But you kept in contact with him?” Yoosung asks, and there’s a hint of _something_ in his voice.  Seven can’t tell if it’s jealousy or anger.

“Not really, Jumin just kept checking in,” then it hits Seven, “actually you know, he _did_ keep me up on all the big RFA news.”

“You mean like the last party?  Because it was kind of _not great_ , we didn’t even really have and auction or anything.”

“Come on Yoosung, aren’t you going to tell me about your _girlfriend_?” There’s something satisfying about the choking sound on Yoosung’s end of the phone.

“ _Girlfriend_ , Jumin said I have a girlfriend?” Yoosung squeaks trying to breathe.

“Hmm,” Seven hums, “he might have just said you had a date, either way my little buddy _is all growed up.”_

“Ugh,” Yoosung groans, “no it’s not.  I don’t know I didn’t realize it was a date until we got there, I just thought she wanted to go to the party.”

“Aw buddy,” Seven chuckles. “Tell me about her, I want to know everything; did you take her out again?  Did you _kiss_ her?”

“ _What?_ No! I, Uh, oh my _god_.”

“Please Yoosung,” he whines.

Seven gets up from where he’s been sitting on the couch and walks to the window to watch his brother sitting in the backyard drawing while he waits for Yoosung to give in and tell him what happened.  He’s not even sure why he’s pressing so hard for information.  It’s not like he was going to tell Yoosung how he felt.

“ _Fine_ , she was my tutor,” Yoosung mumbles.  “I thought she just wanted to come to the party because she’d heard Kit and Jaehee mention it, I didn’t, _god_ I’m so stupid.”  Seven can see how Yoosung would shake his head and cover his face while he spoke.

“You _are_ pretty dumb sometimes _,”_ he agrees.

“Ugh, do you want to hear the whole story or not?” Yoosung pouts.

“Very much, yessir.” Seven chuckles, and he can hear Yoosung snort.

“I don’t know, I thought she was just nice to me because she was tutoring me and she was pretty but I _dunno_.  I figured she was off limits and then we got to the party and,” Yoosung groans again, “I’m a _moron_.”

Seven laughs. “How bad could it be?”

Yoosung’s words are mumbled and Seven is pretty sure he’s buried his face in a pillow or something. “She tried to kiss me and I kind of freaked out.”

“What,” Seven teases, “Yoosung is the connection bad?  Is your battery dying I can’t hear you.”

“It was really bad, OK?” Yoosung sighs, his voice clearer. “We left early because I didn’t feel _right_ and it was _so soon_ after everything, and I guess she thou—I don’t know _what_ she thought but she— she grabbed me in the car on our way home and she tried to kiss me and I _panicked_.”

“That still doesn’t sound _that_ bad, Yoosung,” Seven chuckles.

“When I panicked I tried to push her away but the car hit a bump and our faces slammed together and I think she broke her nose,” he says like he’s trying to prove a point.

Seven cackles.

“It’s not funny, there was a lot of blood, my best shirt was ruined.”

That only makes Seven laugh harder.

“ _I didn’t mean it like that_ ,” Yoosung whines. “I had a text in morning from her saying she couldn’t tutor me anymore and she would call me but she never has.”

“Do you want her to?” He’s not sure why he asks, a sucker for punishment he figures as the door to the backyard slides open and Saeran comes back inside.

“I don’t know,” Yoosung says.

It’s late evening a few days later and they’re leaving Saeran’s therapy appointment when he gets a text from Yoosung.  There’s an RFA _meeting_ at Jaehee’s café after it closes in a half hour and Yoosung thinks they should come.  He considers ignoring the text, not even mentioning it to Saeran. 

They made special appointments, that Seven happily paid double for, this late in the day so that his brother didn’t have to risk being around too many people.  It also helped that being late in the evening it didn’t ruin a potentially _good_ day with a tough session.

But Saeran looked OK tonight, he was walking to the car a few feet away from Seven looking up at the streetlights rather than sticking close to his brother and curling in on himself to keep from the crowd like he almost always did after a session while they walked to the car.  Sometimes, after a particularly rough session Seven would have to almost carry him.

“Was that _Blondie_ ,” Saeran teases when they’re getting their seatbelts on.

“Who’s in love with Yoosung now?” Seven teases.

Saeran shrugs. “Still, fucking, you dummy.”

He shakes his head, he’d made a promise not to lie to Saeran, and there was no point in denying it, it was doubtful Saeran would tell Yoosung, at least not on purpose.

“Is he coming over or something?” Saeran asks as Seven starts the car.

“He wants us to come to the Café,” Seven shrugs.  “There’s an RFA meeting tonight, I guess.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Saeran frowns.

“I think it’s Yoosung code for _I want to introduce your brother to everyone_ ,” Seven laughs.

The car is quiet for a few minutes while they pull out of the parking lot. “Did you _want_ to go?” Saeran asks quietly.  Seven can see him fidgeting with his bracelet.

“It’s not a big deal,” Seven says.

“Do _you_ want to _go_ ,” Saeran tries again.

“Kind of,” he admits.  “But not if—”

“Do they make frappes?” Saeran cuts him off.

“I think so,” Seven says carefully.

Saeran nods, like the choice has been made and Seven takes the turn towards the café.  Saeran pulls up his hood when they get out of the car but it’s Seven who stops at the corner of the building.  They can see through the window, Zen is sitting at a table in the corner near the counter, Kit is on a stool strumming a guitar, nicer than the one Seven remembered, and Jaehee is alone behind the counter. 

It’s not busy this close to close.  A few people stand at the counter waiting for Jaehee to make their drinks, a man sits alone near the restrooms on his laptop and there’s a woman his age sitting near the front watching Kit play.

“You’re sure you want to go in?” He asks his brother. “I could just get your frappe say hello, and we could go home.”

“You’re a fucking baby,” Saeran snorts shoving past him and opening the door, but he freezes when Jaehee smiles and greets him, tucking his head down and stepping into line behind the man she’s serving.

“Don’t worry tough guy,” Seven whispers with a grin, “I’ll order for you.”

“Fuck off,” Saeran mutters.

“Luciel!” Jaehee says, stunned as he steps up to the counter. He can hear Kit’s strumming stumble and Zen’s chair scrape against the floor as he turns.

“I can go sit down right?” Saeran mumbles.

Seven nods. “Hey, Jaehee,” he smiles and rubs at his neck nervously.

“What are you doing here?” She asks.

“Heh, well I can uh leave?  Yoosung said there was an RFA thing.”

“That’s not, I’m sorry I meant when did you get back,” she frowns and shakes her head.

He laughs “Oh uh, I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But uh, could you _not_ call me Luciel anymore?”

“Oh, yes,” Jaehee nods, “of course, should I—”

“Just Seven for now.”

Jaehee nods as a big hand clamps down on his shoulder. “Look who’s back,” Zen smiles.

Seven looks at his shoes and wishes for just a minute he could trade places with his brother, sitting alone and ignored at a table in front of Kit.  He glances in that direction wistfully and Kit nods towards him.

“Where were you? We were worried.” Zen gives him a small shove.

“You’re staying for the meeting then?” Jaehee asks, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, yeah you still make those Frappe things right?”

She nods and makes a face, “What kind do you want?”

“Uh whichever is the sweetest one I guess, chocolate or—do you put whipped cream on them or am I thinking of something else?”

She nods again, “I didn’t think you liked coffee.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t it’s not for me.”

“But you _are_ staying?” she asks again.

“I uh, I don’t know.” He looks at his brother again. “For a few minutes I guess.”

While Jaehee makes the drink he watches Kit’s fingers fly over the strings of a banjo.  So much had changed here in only a few months.  The little rack of instruments has grown and they’re all newer now.  He listens to her sing. Saeran smiles a little and she winks in his direction.

The girl who’d been alone in front of Kit before Saeran sat down is looking out the window but she stands up suddenly and steps cautiously towards Kit, writing something in a notebook and dropping a few dollars in the coffee cup next to it.  Seven thinks he hears the door open but when he turns no one has come in or left.

He turns back to the counter when he hears the machine stop whirring and watches Jaehee tuck her hair behind her ear as she reaches for the whipped cream.  It’s noticeably longer, one more thing to remind him how long he’d been gone.  She’s smiling when she turns around and Seven can’t remember ever seeing her so happy.

“So did you come here with that boy?” She asks and he can see exactly what she’s thinking. 

“He’s my brother,” he says quickly knowing how embarrassed she’d be if she voiced that thought out loud.

“Oh.” He watches her face shift a few times.

“I knew Jumin was a vault but I guess Yoosung can keep a secret too,” he smiles.

Kit sings as they glance behind them and Seven can see Yoosung’s blue hood disappear past the window.  He can tell from Jaehee’s face that she saw it too.  The two of them frown at the window so long that he’s forgotten about the drink on the counter until Saeran reaches past him.

“Hello,” Jaehee smiles at him, “I’m –”

“Jaehee, I know,” Saeran shrugs.

“Do you need to leave?” Seven asks.

Saeran shrugs. “I’m ok right now, as long as your friends don’t get fucking weird.”  He goes back to the table he’d been sitting at.

“Your brother seems,” Jaehee tries.

“It’s ok, I know he’s rough, but he’s getting better.” He sighs. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah I’m fucking harmless,” Saeran grunts sitting down.

“Could anyone explain why Yoosung appears to be hiding outside?” Jumin asks before he’s stepped all the way through the door.

The girl listening to Kit turns around and leaves and Seven watches as Zen gets up, “I’ll uh, I’ll go _help?_ ” Zen shrugs following her out.

“Was that Mina?” Jumin asks as Jaehee hands him a cup of tea.

“I thought she looked familiar,” Kit calls letting the man with the laptop out.

“Oh no,” Seven laughs but he’s surprised when everyone looks at him, “p-poor Yoosung?”

“I haven’t seen them study together since the party,” Jaehee says with a frown.

Seven does his best not to give away that he knows anything that they don’t. 

“It’s nice to see you out, Saeran,” Kit smiles cleaning up the mugs and plates still left on a few tables.  Both twins look at her, and then Saeran frowns at Seven.  Kit wrinkles her nose. “Was I _not_ supposed to know?”

“Apparently Kit is good at keeping secrets too,” Jaehee sighs.

Zen is laughing with tears in his eyes when he bangs on the door to be let back in and Yoosung looks, Seven can’t decide if it’s embarrassed or put out.  He has a comical grumpy-cat frown on his face and his hands are balled into fists.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps when Kit opens the door for them.

Zen practically howls with laughter, wiping at his eyes.

“I told you she was your girlfriend,” Seven teases and Zen almost chokes trying to keep himself from laughing again.

“Oh my god,” Yoosung sobs.  “She’s definitely not my girlfriend.”

Zen has settled into a sort of staccato chuckle as he slaps Yoosung on the shoulder. “I thought for sure you’d have kissed her already but—”

“Shut-up,” Yoosung whines covering his face.

A wave of laughter passes through the small group as things start to settle down.  Zen offering advice on girls while both Yoosung and Jumin point out that they have _never_ seen Zen with a woman.  Zen and Jaehee try a few times to ask about Saeran, Kit and Jumin help him deflect.  More than once he notices Kit check in with his brother.

To his own surprise he’s ready to leave before his brother.  He suspects being able to sit on his own with his headphones in has helped somewhat.  Seeing everyone after so long had been good, great really but he was exhausted, he hadn’t done much more than buy groceries and set appointments for Saeran since he’d walked out of the sweets shop the month before.

“A-are you going?” Yoosung looks up from his phone when he stands.

Seven shrugs. “Yeah, gotta work tomorrow, the boss is a real hard ass you know?”

Jumin shakes his head. “I would rather you not use me as an excuse, if you’d like to leave simply say as much.”

Saeran snorts and smirks and Seven watches Kit stop to help him pick up the couple dishes he’d been using.

“Can I get a ride from you?” Yoosung asks shoving his phone in his bag.

Saeran shrugs when he glances at him and Seven nods. “Yeah sure.”

Saeran sits in the back, Yoosung tries to argue with him but Saeran just chooses not to respond, he puts his headphones and stretches out in the backseat.  Seven laughs.

“Do you m-mind, uh can I hang out at your place?”  Yoosung asks as Seven starts the car.

He starts to speak, starts to say he doesn’t know if it’s a good idea, Saeran is probably tired, it’s been a busy day for him but a voice from the backseats grunts. “I don’t fucking care, I’m going to bed.”

“I guess it’s fine,” Seven shrugs.

“Thanks,” Yoosung smiles.

Saeran goes straight to his room when they get home, Seven tosses Yoosung a bag of chips from one of the boxes in his cupboard and they both flop down on the couch. “So what happened?” He asks fiddling with the remote.

Yoosung blushes and stares straight ahead, his lips purse and he swallows.  Seven turns on the TV and starts to scroll through Netflix.

“T-that was Mina, the girl I took to the last party.”

“Your tutor,” Seven chuckles, “that you had a _crush_ on?”

Yoosung groans. “I don’t think I did,” he frowns.

His heart skips a beat.  Yoosung had been so flustered and Zen had thought _something_ was hilarious. “Did you give her a bloody lip this time?” he teases, trying not to let on.

“N-no!” Yoosugn snaps.  “S-she didn’t break her nose,” he says softly, still not looking at Seven, “s-she said she couldn’t tutor me because _she_ had a crush on _me_ ,” Yoosung’s voice shakes a little as he speaks.

“ _Really_?” Seven tries to sound light but he can feel every single thing he’s eaten today slam dancing in his stomach.

“She tried to k-kiss me again,” he says quietly, “and then Zen was right there and I turned my head and _she missed_ and,” he covers his face. “I just asked her to go home and I _maybe_ shoved her a little, I don’t know I freaked out again.”

“Was she pissed off?”

“I don’t know I ran away, that’s why Zen was laughing.”

Seven smiles and laughs and ruffles his hair. “You are like little baby man,” he says affecting some kind of terrible made up accent.

Yoosung just frowns and pouts and snatches the remote out of his hand.  He knows exactly what to put on instead of scrolling for 15minutes like Seven always had to do.

“Do you like her though?” Seven asks while the opening credits roll.

Yoosung shrugs.  “I don’t know, I thought I might but I don’t know.  I’m kind of scared to even try now.”

“If you like someone,” Seven says seriously, “there’s never a right time to tell them.”

Yoosung shrugs.

“There’s just right now and too late and there’s no way to tell where you are until you try.”

“Ugh,” Yoosung groans playing with the zipper on his hoodie, “you’re not supposed to have advice you’re supposed to make me feel better.  You’re supposed to make stupid jokes about how I’m cursed and I’ll never get to kiss anyone and make me laugh even though you’re being a jerk.”

Seven laughs. “Sorry.”

Yoosung growls.

Seven isn’t sure when he fell asleep, it’s daylight when Saeran pokes him in the forehead and he jolts up.

“Aren’t you supposed to work this morning?” Saeran laughs.  “Or did you cancel so you could spend the morning with your _boyfriend_.”

Seven’s eyes go wide for a minute as the top of Yoosung’s head catches his eye in the middle of a pile of blankets.  But he’s still fast asleep. “Wait, _my_ boyfriend,” Seven say quickly, chuckling, “I’m not the one who tucked him in Saeran, you didn’t even give me one blanket.”

“That’s because he’s nice and you’re an asshole,” Saeran shrugs.  As he walks away it strikes him unusual that his brother is actually dressed rather than just sporting his usual flannel pants and sweater.

“Yoosungie,” Seven singsongs tapping on the tuft of blond sticking out of the blankets.  “Cutie-pie-Yoosungie, rise and shine.”

There’s a soft groan and then the hair disappears under a blanket and Seven laughs.  He gets on his knees and starts to bounce on the couch.

“Yoosung!  Hurry oh no!” he yells, still abusing the poor old couch, making the pile of blankets wobble and pitch.

Another groan as the pile lurches a bit.  Seven stands up and starts to bounce harder, a foot on either side of the pile. “It’s an _earthquake_ Yoosung,” he shouts, “a big one little buddy, quick I forget what to do.  Yoosung, _Yoosung, save me_ ,” he says as he feels a hand wrap around his ankle.

The bunker door swings open and Kit steps into view with a guitar case on her back and an Arabic to English dictionary in her hand just as Yoosung pushes his foot off the couch and he crumples on top of the pile of blankets and Yoosung cackling.

A strangled sound escapes the blankets as Yoosung pushes Seven and the pile off of him.

“Good morning?” Kit smirks cocking an eyebrow.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in a class right now?”

“I-what?” Yoosung yawns.

“It’s fine,” Seven chuckles, “I’m supposed to be _working_ or whatever.”

“ _Oh no_ ,” Yoosung whines digging around for his phone, “I do, I have to go, my class starts in like 2 minutes I’m going to be late _again_.”

Seven doesn’t even get to say goodbye or offer him a coffee or an energy drink before he’s running out the door.

Seven’s eyes narrow on Kit and her little grin.  “What can _I_ do for _you_?” he smiles picking up the blankets his brother had piled on Yoosung.

“You can get your brother or point me towards him,” she shrugs.

“You’re here for Saeran?”

She nods.  “Doctor Rhee has been asking me to come see him since you got back only you hadn’t _told_ anyone you were back so I didn’t want to step on any toes, but I talked to him a little last night and he seemed interested so here I am.”  She smiles, nerves peaking through for the first time.

Seven just shakes his head and pulls a PhD Pepper from the fridge. “I don’t understand, what do you know about my brother.”

“Not a whole lot to be honest,” she admits.  “I know what you told Jumin and I know the vaguest terms of his diagnosis but I won’t get any access to his records without his permission.”

“Why?”

“Who do you think gave Jumin the recommendations for you?”

He was off his game, of course Jumin would have asked Kit, she’d been a music therapist, and she’d had some significant connections before her own breakdown a few years ago after the death of one of the kids she worked with.

“Jumin didn’t tell me who they were for,” she offers seeing the frown on his face, “I actually kind of thought the recommendations were for _you_ until I saw the two of you last night.  Doctor Rhee had thanked me for recommending him to _Saeran Choi_ at my session a few days ago and I just thought it was one of your aliases.”

Seven hears the back door slide open and then his brother’s monotone, “Oh, you’re here.”

Seven leaves them to whatever they’re going to do and shuts himself inside his computer room, he logs into the C&R VPN and sends a text to Jumin apologizing for being late. 

[Jumin Han]: As long as your work does not suffer I have no need for you to be particularly punctual, flexibility was part of our agreement.

The day to day IT issues for the C&R building were mind numbingly simple and Seven almost loved it.  Jumin had told him there would be use for his skills but not having to hack, not having lives on the line was a nice change of pace and Seven found he enjoyed the monotony of it.  He liked the emails from the people who seemed to think the internet was magic just as much as he liked the emails from people who were certain they knew exactly what their problem was while being 100% wrong about what their problem really was.

He doesn’t notice Kit leave, he doesn’t notice his brother with the set of practice drum pads after she leaves, he doesn’t notice the pizza guy Saeran calls at supper time.  He doesn’t notice anything until he gets a text from Yoosung.

[Yoosung Kim]: I asked Mina on a date.


	4. Chapter 4

“Really?”  She sounded, surprised?  Excited maybe, he wasn’t sure but if she said really one more time he was going to lose his nerve and tell her to forget about.

Except he wasn’t.  Except that would be mean.  And part of him thought that maybe that was why he was doing this.  Why he called her number and asked her out.  Because she was a girl who liked him, because she’d already tried twice now to show him that, and he’d freaked out.   
And why shouldn’t he like her back? Or at least try to.  A pretty girl who wasn’t annoyed that he played video games all night, and could help him study?  Part of him was excited.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers.  Why was he nervous.  She’d tried to kiss him twice now, there’s no reason to be nervous no reason to—

“You don’t have to,” she says, the trepidation in her voice waning, “don’t, don’t ask me out because you feel sorry for me.”

“No, no, that’s not, I’m not,” he’s not sure.

“Because I thought maybe the first time you were, I don’t know and the second time—”

“I didn’t, it’s just,” he sighs.  She can’t even see him and his cheeks are flushed but he’s going to have to tell her at some point, it’s going to come up. “ _ I’veneverkissedanyonebefore. _ ”

“What?”

“I’ve uh, I’ve never kissed anyone, you know, before so, so you kind of—”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I didn’t, Yoosung I’m sorry.”

“S-so,” he says trying to keep moving, “did you want to, you know?  Go out sometime?”

“I-yeah, Yes!  But, uh,” when she hesitates he feels something, relief almost.  “I’m busy for the next week and a half, is that ok?”

Definite Relief. “Yes, yeah that’s—that’s fine.  After what happened it only seems fair, Mina.”

“OK, yeah,” he can see the way she’d look away and smile, a little lopsided with her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ll send you a text after I look at my schedule ok?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, it’s g-great.”

It didn’t feel great as they said their goodbyes and he hung up the phone.  Yoosung definitely didn’t feel the same way about Mina that she had about him.  But he didn’t dislike her, he definitely enjoyed studying with her and he could certainly see himself being friends with her, and relationships had definitely started on less than that.

He wasn’t certain he’d ever really liked someone as more than a friend.  He’d thought maybe Kit but even that hadn’t really been anything.  He didn’t feel any differently about her now than he had in the messenger.

He’s not sure why he texts Seven, anyone else would have had advice for him but Seven would tease him, and somehow that felt more genuine.

But he doesn’t. Yoosung expects a joke about making her bleed again, or maybe was he sure he didn’t maybe ask out an NPC but the seen appears a full minute before Seven even begins to type.

[707]: huh.   
[Yoosung]: huh?   
[707]: That’s nice Yoosung

He waits.  He holds his phone in front of him and watches but there’s no little typing indicator, no incoming joke, no bad dating tips from the playboys guide book just,  _ huh, that’s nice _ .  Yoosung feels, hurt isn’t the right word but it’s close.  

It’s selfish, he figures, Seven has only been back for a few days and after he’d been through so much.  At least Yoosung assumes it was a lot, his brother had certainly been something and Seven didn’t talk, he never talked about himself.  Still he thought at least Seven would be happy for him and there was something about those four words that sat wrong.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He doesn’t even blink when the piece of mushroom bounces off his  forehead.  “Saeran do you have to be like that all the time?”

“Yeah,” Saeran laughs, “I think I do.”

“Do you like Kit?” He tries to change the subject.

“More than Chu, or Rhee,” He shrugs.  “She treats me like a person I guess.”

“Chu didn’t?”

“He uh, he just treated me, I dunno he was a good doctor,” Saeran shrugs.  “Rhee is too, I’m just, I’m their job, I don’t fucking know?  Kit treats me like her friend.”

“That makes sense, she probably wants to be your friend, everyone probably will are you ok with that?”

“I dunno,” Saeran rolls his shoulders and there’s something about the way he smirks at his brother, “the blond one is cute.”

He knows his cheeks are flushed and he knows his brother is teasing him.  He’d be happy if he hadn’t spent most of the day trying not to think about Yoosung.

“Jesus fuck Saeyoung, lighten up.” Saeran chuckles.  “He’s cute but timid virgins aren’t my type.”

Seven laughs, “Put on a dress and show a little leg, and Zen can’t tell the difference.”

“You’re fucking weird,” Saeran grunts but he laughs and shakes his head.

It’s nice really, to have his brother back, even if the road was long and hard, even if tomorrow he could stay locked in his room all day and not speak a single word, even if in an hour he was coaxing a pill into his mouth while he rocked in his arms.  Moments like this he can see the life he’d dreamed for them.  Saeran was smart, too smart for his own good and Seven wishes he’d seen that sooner.  

He can hear his brother in his room when he shuffles passed to use the washing machine in the garage.  The muted thud of sticks on the practice pads is kind of soothing and Seven wonders if he paid more attention to music would he be able to recognise the song.  He hovers outside the door, contemplating knocking.  Maybe asking him what he’d like for breakfast, offer to take him to the café.

His phone alarms in pocket and he frowns at the screen, Yoosung at the gate, again, looking apologetic this time rather than pissed off.  So he inputs the override and lets him in.

He’s carrying one of the pale blue boxes from Jaehee’s café and a tray of drinks, he smiles as he toes off his shoes and moves to set the drinks on the table.  “Where’s your brother?  He drinks those slushy drinks right?  I got him one.”

“He’s still in his room.” Seven shrugs, raising an eyebrow like it’s a challenge. 

“Oh, is he ok?”

“He’s, you know, yeah ok?” Seven shrugs.

“Can I, uh, take it to him?  What’s he doing?”  

“Beating a dead horse.” Had it been Saeran in the main house and Seven in his room Yoosung wouldn’t have hesitated to barge into the room.  He wonders if the caution is because it’s Saeran or if he’s the only person Yoosung acts so familiar with.

“He, uh, what?”  Yoosung’s smile wanes.

“He’s drumming, you can just knock and tell him who you are before you open the door and uh—” he pauses abruptly.

“What?”

“Uh if he teases you don’t uh, don’t take it too hard?”

“Don’t cry you mean?” Yoosung says but he’s smirking.

“Don’t show weakness, he can smell fear,” Seven nods.

He has three pastries stacked on a plate and a fourth in his mouth when Yoosung gets back with a wide smile on his face.

“Look at you Prince Charming,” Seven teases, “was he nice to you?”

“He said my hair looked nice, and he thanked me,” Yoosung smiles.

Seven fakes a swoon, “Careful Killer, you’ll break his heart.”

Yoosung blushes and shrugs and reaches for a pastry. “So I asked Mina on a date.”

Seven tries to keep himself steady, force himself to keep moving to the sofa. “You uh, you said that, yesterday right?”

Yoosung nods and sits on the couch in his usual spot. “But you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

Seven freezes.  Did Yoosung  _ know _ ? Or was he-

“You, you always seem like a good judge of character and I don’t know if it’s just because you were a-away or,” Yoosung is babbling, his face is red and Seven lets out a sigh of relief,“or if you looked her up and you saw something and you don’t want to say anything or-”

“Do you  _ like _ her?” Seven asks him for a second time.  He forces himself to smile.

“I, I think I do?” Yoosung says unsure.

“What if she tries to kiss you again Yoosungie” Seven sings and shoves a whole pastry in his mouth.

“I uh, I’m not sure she will,” Yoosung says softly, “I t-told her I’ve never done that before, it uh, it only seemed, you know, fair?”

“Does it freak you out?” Seven asks earnestly.  He might be jealous, he might be the world’s shittiest friend, and he might have the world’s biggest crush on Yoosung but he didn’t want to not be there for him.  And it’s clear he hadn’t responded the way Yoosung had needed him to yesterday. 

Yoosung hugs himself and squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah kind of,” he nods. “W-what if I’m really bad at it?  That’s probably ok when you’re a kid but n-not when you’re 21 and she’s o-older too.  What if kind of liking her is not the same as actually liking her and then it’s bad and I don’t ask her out again and she tells everyone how bad it was?”

“She hasn’t told anyone yet.” Seven says, he can’t help but chuckle.

“What do I do?” Yoosung whines flopping over on Seven’s couch.

“When’s your date?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles into the cushion, “she’s going to call me after she figures out when she’s free, in a week I guess.”

“You could look up guides on the internet,” Seven chuckles, “practice on your pillow.”

Yoosung groans. “I wish I could just  _ take a class _ .”

Seven laughs. “Kissing cram school, everything you need to know from saliva to tongues.”

“ _ I didn’t even think of that _ ,” Yoosung whines, “what if my mouth is too wet, or my lips are chapped, what do you do with your hands?”

Seven chuckles again.

“What if it still sounds like a mayonnaise sandwich when  _ I’m _ the one doing the kissing and I get grossed out?”

“Mayonnaise  _ what _ ?”

“You know like a wet sandwich squishing together?” Seven makes a face and Yoosung groans, “See I’ve made it weird and I’m not even going to kiss you.”

“I think you’re making too big a deal out of it,” Seven tries.

Yoosung sits up and leans forward frowning into Seven’s face. “How many girls have  _ you  _ kissed?”

“Just girls?” Seven laughs nervously.

Yoosung rolls his eyes. “Fine how many  _ people _ have you kissed.”

“Are we talking genuinely kissed in a romantic situation, or does agency work count because the first one is pretty low.”

Yoosung’s face falls for a moment, “Oh, wow, I uh, I didn’t think about that.”

“I’m joking Yoosung it’s ok.  I’ve kissed people, I don’t think the number is important.  Kissing is just a thing, it’s not a huge deal buddy.” It’s a lie.  Kissing was a big deal to Seven.  Romantically he hadn’t really pursued anything, hadn’t thought he could but there had been the occasional exception.

Sometimes, sleeping his way out of a bad situations was preferable to getting caught, sometimes sleeping with a client got you a decent tip in your personal account.   _ Sex  _ was just a thing to him, a thing he didn’t need but ultimately enjoyed.  An indulgence that put him in control for once.

Kissing was something else, something intimate and he avoided it in those situations where he could.  The people he’d kissed because he wanted to were few.  A girl in his computer engineering class in college, they used to sneak off the the bathrooms where Vanderwood wouldn’t catch him, but it stopped when he couldn’t ask her out on actual dates.  

Then there had been the guy in his basic training for the Agency. Stealing away to one another’s bunks after hours.  They’d made plans to try to meet once they’d been given their assignments but he’d been killed his second time in the field.

The others weren’t memorable, a girl at a corner store who had a crush on him. He’d indulged her in a kiss, intoxicated by who she thought he was, came back with gifts for her occasionally before Vanderwood caught on.  That was how it always went, a chance meeting, someone to think he  _ might _ be a good person and then he was caught and he ended it.

“What about your first kiss?” Yoosung asks to break the silence.  He’s not looking at Seven anymore, staring forward at the black TV with a stale smelling throw pillow hugged to his chest.

“Um,” He thinks back, the girl in his college class comes to mind but then he remembers, “Rika kissed me once,” he brushes his lips with his fingers and listens to Yoosung suck in air. “Not like, you know, I was just a kid.  It was before I left for school just after the Agency agreed to hire me.”

He glances nervously at Yoosung, the two of them are sitting on either end of the couch facing forward.  Yoosung had buried his face in the pillow he’s hugging and Seven wonders if he should have maybe kept this to himself.”

“Wh-why would you say it’s your  _ first _ kiss?” Yoosung whispers.

“She,  _ they _ took me out to dinner to celebrate.  After I ran away you know they made the arrangements for me and I was leaving for school and,” he pauses, swallows.  Yoosung tilts his head to watch his best friend, Seven’s eyes are almost dreamy the way he stares unfocused ahead of himself. “V went to pay and I was holding her coat and she said  _ it’s a shame you won’t get to be a kid _ . Then she asked me if I’d ever had a girlfriend she told me I couldn’t go off to  _ college _ before I had my first kiss.”

“Oh.”

_ Shit _ .

“It uh, it wasn’t special, she just, you know pressed our lips together it wasn’t, like”  Seven stammers and babbles and tries to fix his mess.  He grabs Yoosung by the sleeve and makes him look at him. “It was, it was like kissing your Mom or uh or kissing your best friend on a dare it was just-”

He takes Yoosung by the shoulders and touches his lips quickly to his friend’s before he even realizes what he’s doing. He quickly pulls back as his senses return and he realizes what he’s doing.  He shoves Yoosung away in the process.

“See,” he mumbles putting space between them, “no big deal.”

Yoosung touches his lips, but he doesn’t frown, doesn’t get mad he just watches Seven.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok.”

“That doesn’t count,” Seven mutters.

Yoosung laughs. “I know.” He reaches out and grabs the remote off the table and puts something on the TV.  Saeran wanders out shortly after and sits in the space between them with the last of the pastries from the box.  His hair is a mess and he’s still in his PJs.  

“Did you two finally fuck?” He snorts, shoving a pastry in his mouth in almost the same way his brother had.

Yoosung squeaks and blushes, Seven shoves him. “Oh my god, Saeran.”

He shrugs. “What the fuck is this?” He frowns at the TV.

“I don’t know,” Seven and Yoosung answer in unison and then look at one another and laugh.

“I uh, I didn’t even look I just put  _ something _ on,” Yoosung groans.

Seven snorts.

“You’re both fucking weird,” Saeran groans taking the remote from Yoosung.

Seven watches the way Yoosung squirms and frowns and chews his lip as Saeran throws on some creepy paranormal show.  He starts to open his mouth, starts to suggest they watch something else.  Yoosung scares easy after all and he didn’t need to mess up his day even more but Yoosung leans towards Saeran and starts to ask him questions, to catch him up to the episode he’s on. 

Yoosung is acting tough, and the overwhelmingly charming nature of his nervous questions bleeds quickly into jealousy.  Saeran was nice to Yoosung and Yoosung seemed to go out of his way to be kind to his brother.  It didn’t mean anything, Yoosung was kind to everyone, but what if it did?  What if one night they fall asleep watching movies and Saeran decides to  _ kiss _ Yoosung when he tucks him in.  What if Yoosung  _ kissed _ him back?

Saeran said Yoosung wasn’t his type sure, and while Seven was pretty sure his best friend was not straight, Yoosung had a less than casual interest in MLM media and Seven had seen his browser history, there was little to indicate that Yoosung was really aware of his own sexuality.  It was a stupid fantasy, to be Yoosung’s bisexual awakening, but it was his fantasy and right now he didn’t think he could stand watching Yoosung reach out for Saeran when he was startled.

Yoosung squeals and grabs Saeran’s arm again, this time not letting go but dragging his brothers arm out to hide behind.  This was on purpose.  Saeran glances over his shoulder and smirks at Seven and he  _ knows _ his brother is teasing him.  Daring him to be jealous.  He knew just as much about Yoosung as Seven.

He’s fairly certain, in this moment, that if Searan’s recovery took a wrong turn he would sleep with Yoosung just to hurt them both.

Seven rubs his eyes and leans forward to press his head between his knees.  This wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair to either of them. Sitting here thinking like this.  He’d fucked up when he didn’t mask his feelings about Yoosung’s date.  He’d made it worse talking about kissing, letting himself sink into his own head and then.  God why would he kiss Yoosung, why would he talk about Rika, especially with Saeran so close by.

What was wrong with him?

He knows.  He knows the answer to that question is that everything is wrong with him.  That if he was a less stubborn person he would make an appointment with Doctor Rhee, get his own shit together.  Stop compartmentalizing the fucked up parts of himself and storing it away in paper boxes at the back of his mind.  He knows that the number one thing wrong with him right now though, is Yoosung.

The number on thing fucked up in his mind right now is that he’s in love with Yoosung Kim and he’s finally run out of time.

“Are you ok?” A light hand is rubbing circles on his back and Yoosung’s voice is concerned.

“Uh huh,” he mumbles towards the floor, “dizzy, s’fine.”

“Are you sure,” Yoosung says softly, “I have to go to class, can I get you something before I leave?”

Seven shakes his head. “Just need to go to sleep,”  He doesn’t look up, doesn’t want the hand on his back to stop.  He wants Yoosung to stay, he wants to make it up to him. He wants Yoosung to put one of those romance animes or a drama on and he wants to rest his head in Yoosung’s lap and fall asleep while Yoosung plays with his hair.

“Ok,” Yoosung says, like he doesn’t quite believe him but he doesn’t want to push him.

What did he ever do in his life to deserve a friend like Yoosung Kim?

He hears the door to the Bunker close but the hand is still rubbing circles on his back.  He tenses for a moment before turning his head.  Saeran is sitting beside him, watching him with a curious look on his face. “Is, uh is this ok?”

He drops his head back between his knees. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Did you,” Saeran starts, there’s a far away quality to his voice when he speaks, “I kind of remember you doing this when we were kids, was that  _ real _ ?”

It breaks his heart when they do this, when Saeran has a memory of something good and has to ask him if it happened.  It’s not so bad as the bad memories, he hates confirming the bad memories, but there’s something that hurts when his brother can’t trust those small moments of light.

“When you were sick, or when she hurt you,” he says and he tries to keep himself together.

“Sorry I was shitty,” Saeran mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Seven shrugs.

“I thought it would be funny.”

“It probably was, I’m just an idiot,” Seven groans.

“What the fuck did you do now?” Saeran grumbles, the hand on his back stops for a second but then Saeran starts the slow circles again.

“I’m stupid,” Seven mumbles. “I need to get over this, he’s going to date that girl and I missed whatever tiny window might have been opened.”  Saeran doesn’t answer, he starts the show they’d been watching again, Seven hadn’t even noticed it stop, and turns the volume down. “He asked me about my first kiss,” he says quietly avoiding the details, “and I shouldn’t have, I should have made something up.”

“Spit it the fuck out,” Saeran grunts, thumping him on the back gently before he starts to rub again.

“I was trying to prove that it wasn’t a big deal ok?  And I got carried away and I kissed him.” The hand stops and Saeran pushes him off the couch.

“You’re a fucking- what that fuck Saeyoung?  That’s messed up.” Saeran scowls at him.

“I  _ know _ ,” Seven groans. “It was stupid and unfair, I just.  It was just a peck and he didn’t seem mad, I don’t know why I did it.

“Because you’re fucking pathetically in love with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years.gif
> 
> Sorry it's been so long, I wanted to focus on finishing Catalyst, it was hard going back and forth.


	5. Chapter 5

He needed to make some time, Yoosung decided.  Seven had gone away, obviously not expecting to come back and a lot had happened to him.  A lot of things he didn’t want to talk about.  So Yoosung should make time for his friend, should invite him out.  Or maybe just go there more.  Unless Saeran was having a bad day, whatever that meant, Seven had no reason to not let him visit anymore.

Things had been mostly normal for the rest of the RFA but Seven had been on the run with his sick brother.  It was silly for Yoosung to expect him to be back to himself just because he was back in the bunker.  Yoosung knew better than most that just because his best friend  _ looked _ fine it didn’t mean he was.

He raises his fingers to his lips.  It had been a day and he wasn’t  _ mad _ but it had surprised him.  Seven got a little ahead of himself sometimes, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that to Yoosung. Seven had never had a problem taking any opportunity to make Yoosung blush or jump or…

Seven had never looked so shocked at his own actions before.  It wasn’t like a real kiss, it wasn’t the kind of kiss that made Yoosung’s anxiety spike with worries of messing it up, but it had made his heart pound and his face hot and-

Seven had looked so worried and then, Yoosung had never seen his friend the way he was when he left.  Sitting on the couch with his head between his knees claiming he was tired and dizzy.  Yoosung didn’t know Saeran at all but even the surly twin had seemed worried.  The second Seven had collapsed in on himself Saeran had yanked his arm away from Yoosung and moved closer to him.  

Saeran had mouthed the words  _ you need to go _ at him and started rubbing Seven’s back.  Yoosung couldn’t leave though, not right away.  He had to make sure Seven was ok, Saeran staring daggers at him the entire time until he made some excuse about classes and left.

Yoosung wonders what had happened in those months he’d been away, what he might have done to trigger that kind of thing in his friend. Or had he always been like this.  No one was foolish and happy as his best friend, not all the time, not really He wonders if he can get Seven to be serious long enough to tell him something real.

*   
“I want to go to the cafe after therapy,” Saeran says offhandedly as he’s pulling on his boots.

“You what?” Seven coughs, choking on the half a can of PhD Pepper he’d been chugging.

“If I’m not fucked up or whatever,” Saeran adds, “I like the little cakes they make.”

Seven wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks his brother up and down.  There’s a slight blush to his cheeks making the light dusting of freckles over his nose seem all the more prominent. He absently brushes his thumb over the darker freckles on his own nose.  Was his brother up to something?  Did he and Yoosung maybe plan something?

Yoosung had sent him a text earlier in the day asking if he’d slept or eaten, making sure he’d felt better.  Seven didn’t deserve a friend like Yoosung and he certainly didn’t deserve him as anything more than that.

He watches his brother pull on a loose sweater and glare at him, blush gone. “What is your problem?  _ God _ .”

“Is this a trap?”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Did Yoosung put you up to this?”

“God you need to get the fuck over yourself. I just want to get a piece of god damned cake, Saeyoung.” His brother is blushing again.

“Wait,” Seven smirks, “who’s going to be there?”

“I don’t know,” Saeran mumbles, lying.

Another thought pushes past the teasing, “How do  _ you _ know who is going to be there?”

“I um,” he looks away and fidgets with the canvas bag slung over his shoulder, “I saw it in the chat room.”

Seven frowns at him. “I don’t, you’re not,” he sighs, “I didn’t add you to the app.”

He shrugs, a smug smile on his face even if he still isn’t looking at his brother, “Yeah, so?  They were still watching the app, I still had a backdoor I could get in through, I just watch sometimes, no one knows."

“It’s” Seven laughs, “it’s fine, I’ll add permissions for your phone tonight if you want to actually  _ you know _ talk to them?  You could have asked.”

Saeran shrugs and makes to leave.

“You still haven’t told me who’s going to be there though.”

Saeran doesn’t answer, he hooks his thumb under the strap of his bag and pushes into the garage.  Seven smirks following his brother to the car.  He tries a few more times but Saeran doesn’t budge, even tells him to  _ never-fucking-mind we’ll just go home _ .  

It doesn’t seem to have gone as well as the week before when Saeran comes out of Dr. Rhee’s office.  His brother looks weaker than when they’d left, his eyes are a little red, but he bites at his lip as Seven takes the forms for his refills and makes eye contact with the doctor before mumbling  _ I still want to go to the god damned cafe _ .

Seven can’t help but laugh when they get there.  Saeran reaches to pull his hood up and blushes when he realizes this sweater doesn’t have one. Seven laughs harder and Saeran shoves him.

“I was joking,” Seven says quietly, “I didn’t realize you  _ actually _ had a thing for Zen.”

“I will fucking end you.” Saeran growls as they step into the small line. 

Seven whistles and waves to Zen, lounging at a table in the back with a script. Zen looks up and frowns before he finds Seven and waves back, face relaxing.

“Hey you two,” Kit smiles at them, she’s dyed her bangs a bright green since she’d been to see them earlier in the week and Seven finds it suits her.  “Are we still on for tomorrow Saeran or did you need more time.”

Saeran nods. “Yeah, tomorrow is fine,” he mumbles.

Seven orders a hot chocolate for himself and his brother asks for the same, quietly. “And uh,” he frowns into the dessert case to try to decide which cake his brother was talking about.  Saeran’s social anxiety was spiking even though  he obviously wanted to be here. “Um,” Seven stalls frowning between the cakes and his brother, “the green tea cake with the chocolate I think,” Saeran nods, it’s barely noticeable before he shoves his headphones into his ears, “and the strawberry cake and is, has Zen eaten anything?  How long has he been here?”

Kits sighs, “All evening, they’re fumigating his apartment and Jaehee told him he could stay here until he can go home.”

Seven huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever he drinks and uh some of those fancy cookies he likes.”

Kit laughs. “Gonna put on a dress and serve it to him Maid Cafe style?

“Do you girls have an extra Uniform out back?” He chuckles, “I might.”

Saeran pushes past him, hitting him hard with his shoulder but Seven only laughs harder as he watches his brother sit at a table  _ near _ Zen but not with him while the taller man frowns and shakes his head.

Kit helps him carry everything over to the table.

“What’s this,” Zen laughs, deep and rich and Saeran’s head jerks up to look at them.

“Can’t let you waste away,” Seven laughs catching his brother’s attention with a nod of his head. “Kit says you haven’t eaten, what would your fanclub think?”

“I don’t think cookies count as a meal,” Zen snorts but he breaks one in half and dips it into the fancy coffee Jaehee had made for him.

“Then you don’t think hard enough,” Seven laughs as Saeran plops himself down in one of the chairs between Seven and Zen.

“Yoosung is on his way,” he mumbles.

Seven finds himself choking on his drink too often lately. “He what?” He sputters.

Saeran shrugs, but he’s got a smug smile plastered on his face as he sips at his hot chocolate.

“You think he’s ever gonna kiss that girl?” Zen tries, oblivious.

Saeran barks out a laugh and blushes when pretty garnet eye glance towards him.

“They’re uh, he asked her on a date,” Seven shrugs.

“Good for him,” Zen smiles.

He has no right to smile so warmly or be so genuinely happy when Seven’s heart was breaking. “Do you need somewhere to sleep tonight?” Seven asks, partly to change the subject partly to tease his brother.

“Your couch smells like ass.” Zen frowns.

Saeran snorts.

“Yeah I was going to work tonight you could sleep in my room, not gonna use it,” he shrugs.

“Nah, thanks but I can go back in a few hours.” Zen shrugs and breaks another cookie, dips it in his coffee.

Teasing his brother with Zen was harder than expected, he was distracted for one. Wondering when Yoosung would show up or if his brother was just teasing.  Then there was the fact that it had been months and he still wasn’t really spending any time in the chatroom.  Happy go lucky 707 was hard to maintain these days and he had no idea what anyone was doing lately.

“New show?” He asks pointing to the script.

“Hmm?” Zen smiles softly, “Yeah, it’s an American show, a small production I’m uh,” Zen blushes a little, it’s pretty with his pale skin and Seven can see his brother glance away. “I’m playing a Popstar who gets drafted.  He’s kind of an asshole though.”

“So what you’re saying is you won’t have to try too hard?”

Zen snorts.

Seven listens to him talk about the role, concerned that the inspiration might not endear the audience but happy for the role all the same.  Zen always managed to stay so positive even when he didn’t feel that way.  Seven had watched him for years, helped him when he could.  He’d always been envious at Zen’s ability to cheer himself up, to find the bright side and convince himself things would be ok.

He can see why his brother might take an interest in someone like that. He wonders if it’s a crush, the way Saeran watches Zen without looking at him.  Zen might not notice but Seven can see the way his brother is listening intently to what he’s saying. 

Something catches his eye by the big window, Zen sees it too, both of them turning to watch.  Yoosung leans against the window as he walks, stumbling a little and turning, pressing his face against the glass and smiling wide as he waves.  He straightens, stumbles a little and almost falls into the door.  Saeran covers his mouth as he laughs and Zen shakes his head.

“Is he  _ drunk _ ,” Zen whispers.

“There was a study group  _ field trip _ !” Yoosung calls, walking with a wobble towards their table.

Jaehee is already setting a cup of coffee at the table for him, she leaves the carafe and shoots him a look. “Yes, it looks like, um  _ fun? _ ”

Yoosung nod, head loose and bobbing as he picks up the cup and sips at it, eyes wide like he’s never drank coffee before, “S’good!”

Jaehee smiles as she walks away.  Kit laughing and shaking her head behind the counter.

“Saeran said y’had important  _ things,”  _ Yoosung whispers, loudly, leaning towards him.

Seven swallows. “He  _ did _ ?” Saeran looks confused when Seven glances towards him, he shakes his head.

“Maybe,” Yoosung shrugs, “it was  _ loud _ , I wanted to leave.” He scoots his chair closer to Seven and leans against him. “There were too many  _ people _ .”

“Was that maybe your excuse to leave?” Seven asks with a small chuckle.

Yoosung shrugs again. “Mina was there,” he mumbles and Seven can tell by the looks on their faces that neither Zen nor Saeran can hear him.  He presses closer and slips off the chair, Seven catches him, barely.

Zen chuckles. “Take the drunk baby home.”

Seven is torn, he can see the disappointed look on Saeran’s face as he pulls his bag up over his shoulder.  Yoosung is still mumbling beside him, something about  _ holding his hand _ and  _ what if his friends asked _ .  Zen is straining to hear him.  It would serve his brother right, he’d brought this on himself inviting Yoosung here.

Saeran seeking to socialize seemed like such a big step.  He’d said he wanted to meet them, but until today he’d seemed happy to let that happen on their terms.  Seeking out someone specifically?  Seven wanted to encourage that, whether Saeran really did have a crush on Zen or simply wanted to spend time with someone kind and confident Seven didn’t know but he wanted to encourage it. 

However, someone definitely need to take Yoosung home.  Seven holds out his hand, and hisses  _ shhh _ at the mostly quiet table.  He can’t concentrate with the three of them thinking so loudly at him.  “Do you want to stay while I take the drunk baby home?” He asks, watching his brother’s face carefully.

Saeran shrugs.  

“I won’t be long, if you  _ want _ to stay.” He stresses the word, trying to make it clear to his brother that it’s up to him.  “Kit is here if you get overwhelmed. I-I’ll be right back, it’s  _ fine _ .” Seven doesn’t want to say too much, worry anyone or embarrass Saeran.

Saeran shrugs again but there’s a hint of a smile.  Seven wonders if his brother is happier that he can talk to Zen on his own, or that Seven seems to be trusting him alone again.  It’s a big step, especially after last time but he’s not alone here.  Not with Zen and Jaehee and Kit all right there.  

It’s a relief having people to rely on again, He can’t believe he’d tried to do this alone for months.  Can’t believe he thought they’d forget about him.  Can’t believe they care.  Not just about him but about Saeran too.  He’s an idiot.

Yoosung has rested his head on his arms, leaning on the table and Seven taps him on the shoulder, “Ready to go Yoosungie?”

“Where?” Yoosung frowns, and then giggles and then, “Is it time for  _ kissing lessons _ ?”

Saeran snorts, and Zen raises his eyebrows.

“Seven has a lot of kiss-experience,” Yoosung announces. “He told me so,” he nods sagely and Seven ruffles his hair a little rougher than normal.

“Not really what I said,” he insists reaching for the carafe. “Just, I’ll be right back Yoosung, I’ll take you home.”

“Kissed Rika once,” Yoosung snorts and Saeran and Zen’s heads both snap to glare at him.

“Not like that,” he insists, hands out in supplications shaking his head.  He squeezes Yoosung’s shoulder tightly.

“Sorry, I forgot,” Yoosung whines.

“Stay right here, buddy,” Seven growls, “please stop talking.”

Yoosung makes a zipper motion with his fingers against his lips as Seven carried the carafe towards the girls. “I’m going to take the drunk home, can I get a paper cup for this?”

Jaehee nods, taking the coffee from him and moving with purpose.

“Saeran is uh, he’s going to hang out with Zen, can you-”

Kit smiles over his shoulder as a hand claps down making him jump.  

Zen is smiling down at him and he can see Saeran and Yoosung with their heads bowed together conspiratorially behind him.

“Is it  _ cool _ if I take your brother on my bike?” Zen asks. “He asked about it and I offered without thinking, he didn’t think you’d be ok with it.”

Seven freezes, this is  _ fast _ .  Saeran hadn’t been in any real position to try to get to know Vanderwood, and he’d barely started confiding in Chu before he’d started scoring from the nurse.  He hates that he’s suddenly suspicious of his brother’s motives but he  _ trusts _ Zen. 

“I-If he wants to?” Seven glances at Kit, this is new territory, sick or not Saeran had only ever relied on him.

Kit nods and shrugs and he curses her mixed signals.

“Cool,” Zen smiles.

“Hang around the bunker if you want,” Seven shrugs. Still not used to being able to freely invite people into his home.

Jaehee slides the big paper cup across the counter, and Kit smiles.  “Guess you don’t need me huh?”

“Guess so,” Seven says a little wistfully, watching the earnest smile develope on his brother’s face. “Come on Yoosungie,” he calls and watching his friends head pop up from the table, hair mussed from running his hands through it.

“Where’re we going?” Yoosung slurs.

“I’m taking you home little buddy,” he forces himself to smile. He guides his friend to his car, helps him into the passenger seat without hitting his head or spilling his coffee. “You should drink that, Yoosung.”

“It’s black,” he makes a face.

“Drunk babies don’t get cream and sugar,” Seven laughs.

“You’re being mean, calling me a baby again,” Yoosung whines as the car starts.

He watches his friend in his peripheral, Yoosung’s head lolls to one side and rests against the window.  He looks pale and Seven considers pulling over.  Tries to focus on his driving rather than his best friend’s gag reflex. He holds out,  _ barely _ .

Seven opens the door, ready to catch him if he falls out but instead barely manages to get out of the way.  Yoosung heaves, the empty cup dropping from his hand.  Maybe the whole 20oz black coffee was a bad idea.  He reaches for his friend, standing as far back from the splash zone as he can, and rests his hand on the back of his head.

“Don’t do that,” Yoosung moans between heaves. “Don’t  _ touch _ me like that.”

Seven pulls his hand back, tries not to look as wounded as he feels, “Sorry,” he mutters.

“S’ok,” Yoosung says.He takes a few breaths and swallows another heave.  His eyes are bloodshot when he looks up at Seven “Reminded me of when Jumin told me she was  _ you know  _ dead.”

“Hmm?” Seven wrinkles his nose watching Yoosung wipe his mouth on the sleeve of his sweater.

“I barfed then too,” Yoosung shrugs, “and Jumin did that, he put his hand on my neck.”

Seven holds out a hand, helps Yoosung around the puddle at his feet.  Not that there is much point, his shoes are covered, his pant legs splattered.  “Here come on,” he pulls him along and sits him at the bench near the door to his building. “Take your shoes off.”

Seven collects a plastic bag from the back of his car and holds it out for Yoosung’s sneakers when he gets back to him.

“Sorry,” Yoosung whines.

“It’s ok,” Seven shrugs.  It’s not, not really, watching his friend drunk and sick brought back too many memories of his mother but he shoves them down, takes Yoosung by the elbow and leads him into the building.  Helps him with the keys, steers him up the stairs rather than risk him barfing in the elevator.

“Why’re you so nice to me?” Yoosung whines.

“Because you’re helpless,” Seven laughs, “like a kitten but drunk.”

“You left Saeran with Zen,” he points out.

“Saeran wanted me to,” Seven shrugs. “You should clean up, I’ll stay to make sure you don’t fall down.”

Yoosung groans but he walks towards the hall, stumbles into the wall, giggles and turns into the bathroom.  Seven follows a moment later, listens to the water turn on in the bathroom and collects a towel from the closet, pajama bottoms from Yoosung’s bedroom.  He knocks on the bathroom door.

“You forgot a towel,” he calls through the door.

“Bring it in,” Yoosun calls back, his voice a little clearer.

There’s just a shape silhouetted behind the curtain but Seven does his best not to look as he sets Yoosung’s things on the toilet seat. He waits on Yoosung’s little couch.  Sends a text to his brother, sends a text to Zen.  

[Zen]: Just getting into your place, should I stay?   
[707]: How is he?   
[Zen]: Seems fine?  I don’t know he’s quiet.   
[707]: I’ll be back soon, you don’t have to

Yoosung is pale when he turns the corner, his eyes sunken, a little toothpaste foams at the corner of his mouth.  He flops down next to Seven on the couch. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Seven smiles. “Don’t apologize for having a life Yoosung.”

“M’still a little drunk,” he shrugs. “I-I know I’m not good at th-this,” he gestures.

“At sign language?” Seven laughs.

“Drinking,” Yoosung frowns. “I can’t, I get drunk really quick I’m easy.”

Seven snorts. “Cheap, you mean cheap.”

Yoosung shrugs. “She was there with friends and she came right over when she saw me and I was stupid.” Seven watches Yoosung lean against him again, cover his face. “She held my hand and I freaked out, but I couldn’t let her see me freak out. Don’t want her to think s’a pity date.”

“So you drank?” Seven frowns but Yoosung nods. 

“Then Saeran texted me that you were at the cafe so I told her I had to go to an emergency RFA meeting.”

“Yoosung,” Seven starts but he’s interrupted.

“I d-don’t want to disappoint her, but I keep,” he shrugs. 

“I don’t think you could disappoint anyone,” Seven says, pushing him to sitting up and moving a little farther from him.

“Th-the more I put it off, the worse it gets,” he mumbles.

“The worse what gets?”

“Thinking about kissing her, or anyone,”he waves his hand around again, “Dating, everything.” Yoosung whines flopping against the arm of the couch keeping his face covered. “What if I kiss her and I regret it.”

“Do you want to kiss her?” Seven asks softly.

Yoosung shrugs a small sob shudders through his shoulders. “Do you regret your first kiss.”

“W-with Rika?” he asks and Yoosung nods. “Sometimes good memories happen with bad people.” Seven shrugs speaking before he can think.

Another sob makes Yoosung’s shoulders spasm. “S-so you th-think she was a bad person.”

Seven sighs, he wraps an arm around Yoosung’s waist and pulls him up, tips him over so his head rests against Seven’s lap.  He runs long fingers through Yoosung’s damp hair, working out the snarls and tangles from the towel. “She did bad things Yoosung,” Seven says softly, listening to his friend sniffle. “But she did good things too, and the RFA does a lot of good because of her.  Even if she might have had bad intentions.  You can still remember the good things that happened.”

“She’s why Saeran is the way he is,” Yoosung whispers.

Seven doesn’t answer at first but then Yoosung rolls over, legs awkwardly dangling over the arm of the couch, and wraps his arms around Seven’s middle. Seven rests one hand on his back and smoothes out the wrinkles in his tshirt. “Yeah, mostly.”

“V too right?” Yoosung mumbles into his belly.

“I guess, and Mom, and me. There are lots of reason that Saeran is who he is now, Yoosung, none of them are  _ your _ fault.”

“I shouldn’t have said about Rika kissing you right?” He mumbles.

“I,  _ yeah _ , that wasn’t great.”

“M’sorry.”

“It’s ok.” 

Seven sits on Yoosung’s couch with Yoosung’s face pressed into his stomach, his arms wrapped around Seven’s middle. He runs his fingers through his friends damp hair and listens to him softly cry, feels his tears dampen his tshirt.  He’s antsy, so close to Yoosung.  He can feel that heavy feeling in his chest, like that night just before he’d left, jealousy mixed with affection.

He tries to relax, not sure exactly how long before Yoosung is really truly sober. Not sure if he should leave him like this but hestitant to leave Saeran alone for too much longer.  Even if Zen stayed.

“M’scared,” Yoosung whispers, rolling onto his back.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say, you probably got lessons on how to go on dates with your stupid secret agent training.”

Seven laughs. “Not exactly.”

“I bet you’ve never been bad at anything.”

Seven laughs harder and shoves Yoosung back to sitting. “Everyone is bad at kissing.”

“Yeah,” Yoosung crosses his arms across his chest. “So I’m going to be bad?”

“Yeah,” Seven nods.  “Yoosung you need to relax.”

“I’ve never done anything I can’t study for,” Yoosung groans leaning back against the arm of the couch. “You can study for games and cooking, and ugh.”

He doesn’t know why he says it.  He regrets it immediately.  It’s selfish and stupid and the most self indulgent thing he’s ever done.  He knows his brother will not just give him shit but probably hit him.  He knows it’s selfish, he’s practically stealing a moment from his best friend.  He needs to let him go.  Move on.  It’s not like he believes in soul mates.  But the words spill out of his mouth before any real proper thought can convince him it was a bad idea.

“You could practice on me.”

Yoosung’s mouth falls open and he tries to read his face.  The words are out there now, and he shouldn’t have said them and if Yoosung is  _ offended _ he’ll say it was a joke, that he’s teasing him and it’s not big deal but.

“ _ R-really _ ?” Yoosung whispers, his face is earnest.

“We could do a practice date?” Seven tries to save the situation, make it not so much like he’s weaseling another kiss out of his naive best friend.

“The whole date, and practice the k-kiss?” Yoosung blushes but he looks determined. “You’d do that for  _ me _ ?”

_ I’d do anything for you _ , he thinks. “Yeah,” he shrugs, forcing himself to be calm, to seem nonchalant.  “Girls practice kissing right?” It sounds like something he’d read somewhere, maybe it was just a dumb fantasy boys tell each other, either way Yoosung looks like he believes him.

“Y-yeah, I, th-thanks,” Yoosung whispers.  

Seven’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

[Saeran]: Zen fell asleep on the couch are you fucking him or tucking him in.   
[707]: I dunno what did you do to Zen, I might need inspiration.   
[Saeran]: Fuck off.   
[707]: I’m on my way home, do you want him to leave?   
[Saeran]: Whatever.

“I uh, I have to go Yoosung.”

“Oh, is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just need to go.”

“I don’t have classes Monday,” Yoosung says and it takes him a moment to realize what he means. 

“Uh, yeah that sounds good, text me before you come over.”

Yoosung smiles as Seven rushes out the door, “You’re a lifesaver.”

He’s not so sure about that.


	6. Chapter 6

What the fuck was he doing?  Seven leans heavy against the door to his brother’s room.  Maybe Yoosung was still drunk enough that he’ll forget, or maybe he’ll back out.  Maybe for once in his miserable life alcohol will do him a favor and make it like that whole conversation had never happened.

He eases open Saeran’s door, feels a little guilty for not knocking but he’s pretty sure his brother is asleep.  He’s right, the blankets are pulled up to his ears and shaggy red hair sticks out above them.  He doesn’t know why he does it, normally he would just check on him from the doorway and go back to whatever he was doing but tonight something compels him.

He sits on the edge of the twin bed he’d bought with the smallest amount of hope before he left. He smooths out the blanket Jumin Han had bought because Seven hadn’t actually had  _ that _ much hope, and he runs a hand through his brother’s hair. Pushes it out of his face, noting that you almost couldn’t see where he’d butchered it that night, probably couldn’t tell if you didn’t know.

Saeran stirs, rolls over onto his stomach and Seven rests his hand on his brothers back, rubs circles like he had when they were kids and wonders briefly if it would be a horrible thing to wake Saeran up and ask him to do the same.  He doesn’t, even if Saeran obliged him he’d want to know why and then he’d have to explain to someone exactly how stupid he really was.

He doesn’t know why or when but somehow he ends up curled up on the outside of his brother’s twin bed, his head rested against the flat of Saeran’s back.  Maybe it’s the stillness of the room, or the turmoil in his head making him nostalgic for the bad old days but he lays himself down like he’s 8 years old again.  He listens to Saeran’s breathing not the sickly shallow breath of their youth, there’s no whistle or rattle, no wheeze.  

He consoles himself, whatever struggles his brother was having with his mental health at least being away from that woman had done something for his body.

“You’re heavy.” Saeran grunts.

Seven isn’t sure when he fell asleep, dim early morning sun filters through the small window above Saeran’s bed and his brother is moving out from under him.

“Sorry,” he yawns sitting up.  Saeran was an early riser, he rarely stayed up much later than midnight, if he made it that far.  Seven wasn’t used to seeing the sun like this unless he was on his way to bed.

“It’s fine,” his brother mumbles rubbing at his eyes and shoving his hair out of his face.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep m’sorry,” Seven yawns.

“Didn’t you have work to do last night?”

“Shit,” Seven groans, “I  _ really _ didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Couldn’t convince Zen to sleep in your room when he started nodding off, sorry.” Saeran says quietly.

Seven smiles, “He’s the one who said the couch smells, it’s his problem.”  He pushes himself up off the bed and stretches.  “So.”

“So fucking what, what took you so long last night?” Saeran frowns swinging his legs out of bed.

“This is about you little buddy, what did _ you _ do with Zen?” He waggles his eyebrows.  “Tired him out  _ real _ fast.”

Saeran’s eyes narrow and Seven’s heart pounds in his chest, he knows his brother is going to call him out, he just wants to wait first. “We watched a movie,” he mumbles.

Seven lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “You watched the  _ whole _ thing?” Seven says, forgetting that he’s teasing him, forgetting that he’s buying time. Saeran almost never made it through an entire movie.

Saeran shrugs.

“Do you  _ like _ him?  I know I was teasing you but do you maybe like Zen?” he whispers.

“I don’t fucking know,” Saeran growls.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Why will you feel better if we both have stupid crushes we’ll never do anything about?”

Seven chuckles, “Ok, good point.  Yoosung got sick, so I made sure he was ok before I came home.”

“You’re lying.” Saeran snorts.

“Omitting the truth.” Seven smiles. “He did barf and I did make sure he was ok.”

“Do  _ you _ want to talk about it?” His brother counters.

Seven chuckles.  “Wanna have a proper, daytime TV heart to heart when your boyfriend leaves?”

“I fucking hate you,” Saeran groans as Seven pushes the door open.

“What,” he laughs, “you can dish it out but you can’t take it.”

“Fu-” 

They pause at the end of the hall, Zen is sprawled out on the sofa.  The blanket Saeran must have put over him is twisted around him, his mouth hangs open, his hair is a mess, he’s snoring loudly and he looks,  _ gross _ .  Seven snorts and fishes his phone out of his pocket.  He glances over at his brother expecting a disapproving look but Saeran is doing the same thing.  This was better than the picture of Zen sneezing.

“How does someone that fucking hot look like  _ that _ when he’s asleep,” Saeran mumbles and Seven can’t help but bark out a laugh that startles Zen awake.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Zen groans and stretches, “when did I fall asleep, what time is it?”

“Six,” Saeran shrugs reaching into the fridge for one of the sweet coffee drinks Seven keeps stocked for him. “I told you to go to Saeyoung’s room and you said you were going to go home and fell asleep.”

Zen’s face softens and he stifles a yawn before he glances between them. “Is Saeyoung your secret real name then?” He asks frowning at Seven.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers.  It felt strange to acknowledge his given name to someone in the RFA after so many years.  It hadn’t seemed strange when strangers said it, it hadn’t seemed strange when his brother said it but hearing Zen say it. “Keep calling me Seven,” he says, “for now.”

Zen shrugs.  He uses the shower, offers to take them out to a breakfast he can’t afford to thank them for letting him stay and then leaves to go for a run.  Seven watches the way Saeran watches Zen, always out of the corner of his eye, never looking directly at him.  Once they hear Zen’s bike pull away Seven turns on his brother.

“I just want to, I don’t know, fuck him or something,” Saeran mumbles.

“He  _ is _ pretty,” Seven agrees.  He’s pretty sure his brother wants more than just sex with Zen but he’s also pretty sure things inside his brother’s head are more complicated than his.  “Did you tell him that?” he smirks.

Saeran throws something at him he can’t quite see, “Did  _ you _ tell Yoosung  _ you’re _ in love with him?”

Well one embarrassing confession down, “I maybe offered to let him practice kissing on me,” he says quickly.  Tries to play it off as a joke, as something silly he might not  _ really _ mean.

Saeran’s jaw hangs open and he  _ stares _ at his brother. “Saeyoung you are fucking joking  _ right? _ ”

“Maybe he was still drunk enough he’ll forget.” Seven hangs his head and runs his hands through his hair.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Saeran snorts.

His brother isn’t teasing him, isn’t giving him shit he’s just  _ looking _ at him.  Sad golden eyes glued to Seven’s face, it’s like he’s watching a slightly smaller version of himself that feels really sorry for him.  He’d rather get shit, rather be told he’s worthless, terrible.  “Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he mumbles pushing past Saeran to pull a PhD Pepper from the fridge.  “I have to make up that work I missed last night.”

“You really fucking like that kid,” Saeran says quietly with something like awe in his tone and Seven swivels on him, Saeran holds his hands up in surrender. “Why would you do that?”

“What?”

“You fucking love him, and he’s just,” Saeran blushes, he stumbles over words. “Neither of us should have someone like that, he’s too fucking good.”

“I know,” Seven groans. “I know and I’m the worst fucking person, taking advantage of my best friend right?  I’m horrible, I need to get over this and just be fucking alone forever.  You and me against the world right?”

“Nah,” Saeran snorts, “You can be sad and lonely, I’m gonna fuck your actor friend.  He seems broken enough to go for that.”

Seven shoves Saeran, a little rougher than really necessary, but Saeran laughs and shoves him back.  He laughs a little in return. “I’m a mess,” he snorts.

“You know,” Saeran says and Seven is surprised to feel an arm around his shoulder as his brother pulls him into an awkward hug, “if he didn’t feel a little bit the same he wouldn’t have been so mad that you didn’t say you were back, and he probably would have been pissed off when you kissed him the other day.”

“Thanks for trying to make me feel like less of an asshole but you’re wrong.  Yoosung is just too nice to stand up for himself.” Seven mumbles, but he doesn’t shake off the hug.  He lets Saeran hold him the way he used to hold his brother when they were young.

“Drunk people don’t pretend to be nice Saeyoung,” his tone is sad and Seven knows he’s thinking of their mother.

“I can’t tell if you’re being nice to me right now or trying to give me hope so you can watch as my life goes up in flames,” he mumbles.

Saeran is smirking when he shoves Seven away. “Good.”

*

Yoosung feels  _ awful _ .  He’s completely aware of his inability to hold his liquor, had only agreed to go out with his study group and have one drink.  One single beer, no more, no shots, certainly nothing harder than a beer,  but then Mina had seen him across the room.

Then she’d hugged him and his friends had made meaningful faces at him like they expected explanations.  She’d held his hand and bought him a drink and he had to drink it to be polite.  He’s an idiot who should have answered  _ beer _ when she asked what he wanted but instead he’d froze and said what he always said when put on the spot;  _ whatever you’re having is fine _ . 

Beer would have been easier on the bartender, cheaper for her but Yoosung can’t help but feel like a burden when people ask him what he wants.  His brain shuts down and he can’t remember what he likes.  Instead of suffering through pizza topping he doesn’t like this time he’s handed a drink, a tall glass that isn’t simply a shot and some kind of soda like he hopes.

A long island iced tea, he googles it the next morning,  Sitting next to the toilet for round three.  Regretting that he tried to eat anything at all, much like he regretted the 3 glasses of water he’d tried to drink when Seven had left.  

He can’t remember how many she’d given him, he’d bought a second and she’d bought, he couldn’t remember.  He remembers the text from Saeran.  The relief at having an excuse to leave.  She’d pouted, held his hand while he walked to the door.  It might have been cute, the way she didn’t really let go, if he hadn’t been so nervous.

Nothing about this felt natural, but he feels ridiculous even asking about.  Who would he ask, his stupid friends who’d had more dates but didn’t seem interested in actual girlfriends?  Zen?  Jumin?  He hadn’t seen either of them willingly go on a date as long as he’d known them.  He could probably ask Kit and Jaehee but that seemed so embarrassing.

Seven had been surprisingly nice about it.  A little uncomfortable maybe, understandably Yoosung thought considering his confession, but he seemed to want to  _ help _ .  Yoosung was even kind of excited about his offer of a practice date.  More excited than he was about his actual date with Mina.

He hopes that didn’t mean something.

Yoosung doesn’t want to hurt her, he hopes asking her out was the right thing to do.  He could accept that he was maybe settling, maybe using her a little bit.  He wanted to get these firsts out of the way, dates, kissing, he couldn’t stand the way his friends teased him.  He joked about being forever alone but really it hurt.  

Yoosung was afraid of being alone.  

He tells himself that’s what worries him.  Tells himself he  _ does _ like Mina and that why he’s so  _ whatever _ he is right now.  He’s afraid he’ll mess up, afraid he’ll ruin this and it’s his third strike and he’s out and he’ll have to accept that he really is forever alone.  Get a bigger apartment.  Start collecting pets and anime body pillows.

He leans over the toilet and dry heaves, trying not to remember that night in the cafe.  The look on Jumin’s face and how he’d been so sure Jumin was going to tell them Seven had died, how there’d been seconds of guilty relief when Jumin told them that Rika had been there, and now she was dead,  _ really _ dead.  Relief that Seven was alive, the brief moment of validation.  He’d been right, she hadn’t killed herself, not then, V  _ was _ lying.  Then the sicking, sucking realization that she was  _ really _ gone, that it didn’t matter that he was right because he still didn’t get to ask her anything.

It was the same thing the night before, leaning out of Seven’s car trying not to watch everything he’d eaten that day splatter on the asphalt, trying not to remember the cafe and then Seven’s hand was on the back of his neck.  Just like Jumin’s except warm, so warm it burned and all he could remember was how awful that day was and he’d yelled.

Could he even be upset about losing her?  He’d read the reports Jumin had given him and even if some of them exaggerated he could see Saeran with his own two eyes.  He’d been drunk and stupid but all he had to do was think of the way Saeran’s entire body had changed when he said her name and he knew it was all true.

Seven had told him the good things still counted, even if she was a bad person.  The doctor Jumin had made him see had told him that he was allowed to mourn the person he’d thought she was.  He wonders, if he does this thing with Mina, if he  _ is _ using her, if she is just a convenient way to get his firsts out of the way, a stepping stone to a real relationship, is this  _ Rika’s _ influence?  

There had been a time when he’s wanted to be just like her, to find someone to love like she loved V, or maybe to love someone like V loved her. Then she was gone, and he’d questioned it all.  Lost himself, floundered, dog paddled his way through life and he was finally,  _ finally _ seeing shore.  But somewhere along the way had he found Mina floating next to him and clung to her?  Would he drown her on his way to safety?

He leans back against the bathtub, lets the cold porcelain press against his neck and inhales shallowly.  Feels that sucking empty feeling in his belly that means he’s probably done here.  He gathers his phone back up and sends a text to his best friend.

[Yoosung]: Sorry about last night   
[Yoosung]: Thanks for taking me home   
[Yoosung]: Is your car ok?   
[707]: I had nightmares Yoosung!   
[707]: My baby!   
[707]: DROWNING IN A SEA OF VOMIT   
[707]: Yoosung how could you!??!!?!   
[Yoosung]: Really?!   
[Yoosung]: I’m sorry, should I come over and clean it for you?   
[Yoosung]: Is it really bad?   
[707]: I’m kidding, are you ok?   
[Yoosung]: No   
[707]: Do you need me to send someone over to look after you?   
[Yoosung]: Babysit me?   
[707]: lol, you said it not me   
[Yoosung]: I’m hungover, I’ll survive

Yoosung watches the screen the little indicator that Seven is typing flashes and stops, flashes and stops.  His eyes drift close and he almost nods off.

[Yoosung]: I’m excited for Monday

He’s not sure why he says it.  It’s not a lie but it seems  _ weird _ , why should he be excited for a fake date with his bestfriend?

[707]: Really?   
[Yoosung]: I mean it’ll be fun right and we get to hang out and stuff

_ Real smooth Yoosung _ , he groans, pushes himself up off the floor and shuffles his way to his bed.  He doesn’t have any classes until late afternoon, he can stay in bed all day.  Nurse his hangover, and try to stop thinking, about anything at all.  Just sleep until he has to go to class.  He’s almost drifted off when his phone vibrates in his hand.

[707]: yeah, lot’s of fun.

It’s hard to tell, Yoosung hopes he’s sincere.

*

Thank god for texts obscuring tone.  Seven honestly hopes that Yoosung reads that with way less trepidation than he feels. What would they even do?  Seven groans into his palms, the texts had started as a brief break from the work he was catching up on but then Yoosung hadn’t mentioned his offer. He’d typed and deleted at least three different versions of  _ so remember that stupid thing I said _ before Yoosung brought it up.

He’s glad that when he did finally log into the C&R VPN that all he had was the usually IT requests to field.  Nothing time sensitive, except maybe a few forgotten passwords.  He’d texted Jumin again with an apology only to receive an eerily similar response about flexibility.  It’s feels strange, slacking off, being late and not receiving threats and reminders of the very real, very dangerous people he was working for.  To work on his own without hostility was not something he was accustomed to.  

Nor was the text from Jumin shortly after asking about Saeran’s health.

It reminds him that he’d told Saeran he would adjust the app permissions to allow him access.  He finishes up with resetting all the password requests he’s received and pulls the RFA server up on another screen.  He’s finished all his adjustments before he considers that he should maybe have asked permission first.  

He was so used to V leaving almost everything to do with security up to him, to having to act because he wasn’t certain how quickly he’d get a response from the older man, that he hadn’t even considered that Jumin might do things differently.

[707]: It’s fine that Saeran has access to the chat room right?   
[Jumin Han]: Does he?  Is this from before, I was under the impression that you’d had fixed that.   
[707]: I did.

_ Mostly _ , Saeran had mentioned backdoors that let them keep tabs on the RFA and Seven was going to have to discuss that with him, maybe ask him for help covering those and increasing security on the app,  _ just in case. _

[707]: I thought he might want to, I don’t know, talk or whatever.  I know he’s not a member or anything.   
[Jumin Han]: Why wouldn’t he be a member?     
[707]: You’re kidding right?   
[Jumin Han]: I had Assistant Kang list your brother as a member of the RFA when I was certain you’d be returning.  It seemed inevitable

Seven finds himself speechless.

[707]: Thanks Jumin   
[Jumin Han]: Your thanks are unnecessary.

It didn’t seem unnecessary and yet he’d been hearing these thing a lot lately.  Suddenly allowing himself to recognise the genuine care in his friends’ voices when they spoke to him.  He couldn’t see them couldn’t go into the chatroom without the overwhelming urge to apologize for everything.

He finishes the rest of the requests that had filled his inbox simple things he can do on autopilot while he does his best to think of an excuse for Yoosung.  It’s not fair to him, to either of them.  He considers briefly confessing his feelings but very quickly shoves that idea way down.  Maybe one day but not yet.

He can smell food when he’s finished his work.  Yawning and stretching he spins in his chair one last time before he makes his way to the kitchen to investigate.

“This isn’t for you,” Saeran growls, stepping in front of the stove protectively.    

“Is it for Zen?” Seven smirks.

“I fucking hate that you know that about me,” Saeran growls.  “I’m not cooking for you, you just complain.”

“Your meat to vegetable ratio is shiity,” Seven shrugs.

“You say that whenever there are any vegetables.” Saeran snorts while his brother tries to shoulder him away from the stove.

“Any veggies are too many veggies bro,” he smirks

Saeran’s phone buzzes on the counter and Seven smirks at him.

“Yeah I’ve been in the fucking chatroom,” he mutters his cheeks a little pink. Seven almost doesn’t hear him mumble  _ thanks _ as he unlocks his phone.

At least one of them was talking to the RFA even if he still couldn’t.

*

It’s nice seeing Seven’s brother in the chatroom.  Yoosung makes a point of talking to him, of filling him in on the little things he might not pick up.  Still he’s a little surprised to see Saeran text him.

[Unknown]: You’re really cute you know?   
[Yoosung]: What?!   
[Unknown]: You keep explaining everyone to me like I didn’t watch everything in this chatroom for a hundred years   
[Yoosung]: Oh!  I guess I didn’t think about that, sorry!   
[Unknown]: It’s fine, it’s cute.   
[Unknown]: So are you ready for tonight   
[Yoosung]: I guess, is it weird that I’m excited?   
[Unknown]: Not any weirder than a fucking practice date.   
[Yoosung]: Have you ever been on a date Saeran?   
[Unknown]: Not like you mean   
[Yoosung]: What does that mean?   
[Unknown]: Don’t worry about it.

It’s late and Yoosung knows he should be getting ready to go but he can help but wonder what Saeran means.  How many kinds of dates could there be?  Yoosung pulls on his best pair of jeans and carefully picks out a tshirt.  He wonders if he should wear something nice or should he wear something Seven would like.  If this was a real date would he just dress nice?  Does he know enough about Mina to find a shirt she would like.

He tries to remember if she’d ever said anything to him, pointed out any shirt he’d worn that she thought looked nice.  He could remember shirts Zen told him looked nice, shirts Jaehee had said were why he couldn’t get a girlfriend, there was a corduroy blazer Jumin had complimented once.

He sighs.  Seven liked his blue hoodie.

In the end he decides to wear the hoodie under the blazer. He’d seen that in a movie once and thought it looked cool.  He takes the bus to Seven’s bunker but gets off a stop to early to stare into a shop window. Should he buy flowers?  This wasn’t a real date but he should be authentic, he would bring Mina flowers he thinks, unless Seven  doesn’t like it then maybe not.

He quickly buys a few sunflowers and when the florist points to a purple and yellow daisy and smiles,  _ it looks like you _ , he blushes and buys a few of those too.  He clutches the bouquet tightly in his hand as he walks the rest of the way to Seven’s.  

Saeran’s eyes widen when he opens the door for Yoosung. “I, uh, I didn’t have to argue with the gate this time?”

“Yeah, Princess Saeyoung is still doing his hair or some shit so he turned it off.  You bought him flowers?”

“Is that weird?” Yoosung laughs nervously.

Saeran shrugs and Yoosung follows him into the house.  Down the short staircase into the living room.  Seven’s computer room is weirdly dark, it seems unusual, its never been dark when he’s been here.

“Yoosungie,” Seven calls playfully from somewhere in the hallway.

Yoosung jumps, and waits.  His best friend saunters out of the room, he’s wearing a long red wig, a floral sundress over a tshirt and a pair of heavy boots.  Seven does a twirl and flutters his fake eyelashes at Yoosung, he’d never seen his bestfrend without his glasses.  Seven always made a pretty girl, today was no exception.

He shakes his head.  Seven’s eye are delicately lined and his eyelids glitter gold in the lights of the living room as he closes the distance between them.  Yoosung is absolutely positive if he’d met this girl on campus or in the coffee shop he could fall in love with her.  He wonders what that says about him.  He’s questioned every step of this date with Mina but the girl his best friend is pretending to be? That’s a girl he could love.

“So,” Seven chuckles cocking his head, his voice isn’t higher exactly but there’s something lighter about the way he speaks, softer.

“Th-this is-”

“Do you  _ like _ it?” Seven asks and he looks nervous.

“I don’t hate it,” Yoosung admits, “but isn’t it a little  _ much _ ?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update should be next Tuesday


	7. Chapter 7

“O-oh,” Seven says softly. “I just thought you’d rather take a girl on a date.”

“He spent fucking four hours on this, Yoosung,” Saeran growls from the kitchen and there’s something almost defensive about it.

“N-no,” Yoosung says quickly, “I uh- I like it but if someone sees us, I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

Seven’s eyes widen and he slaps himself in the forehead.  “Oh, oh!  I didn’t even think.  Geeze Yoosungie you’re cute  _ and _ smart,” he fake swoons into Yoosung’s arms.

Yoosung is almost disappointed to have to ask him to change but he’d been honest.  If any of Mina’s friend saw him out with  _ this _ Seven he’d have to answer some difficult questions.  He considers for a moment taking it back.  If anyone  _ did _ see them and Mina got mad, well that would solve the problem of having to decide how much he actually liked her.  He wouldn’t have to consider that he might be using her.

Seven frowns a little before he slips back into the hallway. Even the way he moved was slightly different.  Yoosung wonders if that’s a secret agent thing or a Seven thing.

“You know,” Saeran says quietly from the kitchen, “he’s my only little brother.”

“I-I thought you were twins,” Yoosung stammers. 

He nods, he’s holding a knife, cutting vegetables, each word punctuated by the knife hitting the bamboo board beneath. “I’m seven minutes older.  If you break my baby brothers heart-” Saeran trails off, smirks wickedly and points the knife at Yoosung, “ _ kidding _ .”

“W-what?” Yoosung can’t breathe for a minute.

“Does she have a brother?  Are you gonna piss yourself if he threatens you too?” Saeran snorts.

Yoosung sighs.  There’s no reason to believe Saeran is lying but still, there had been something about the way he looked at him while he made his threats. “I d-don’t know.”

“Yoosungie,” Seven calls and Yoosung turns relieved to have something else to focus on. “How’s this?”

Seven spins again, still feminine in floral skinny jeans and a long sleeved tshirt, but not so obviously. He’s kept the jewelry he’d been wearing and lost the wig but his usually unkempt pile of hair is in soft waves pulled away from his face.  Somewhere in the back of Yoosung’s mind a box is checked.

“You look,” Yoosung says softly.

“How does he look?” Saeran asks, the knife crunching through a carrot.

“V-very nice,” Yoosung finishes.

Seven beams. “This old thing?” 

Saeran groans, rolls his eyes, and continues on in the kitchen.

Yoosung’s breath catches when Seven slips a hand into his, and leans into his arm. “Aren’t we just the cutest couple, are you jealous?”

“Why would I be fucking jealous of your shitty life choices,” Saeran snorts and Yoosung notices a look pass between them.

Then a suspicious smile crosses Seven’s face and he leans past Yoosung and waggles his eyebrows at his brother, “what time does  _ your _ date get here?”

Saeran lets the knife drop and glares at Seven, “Fuck off.”

“Oh I forgot,” he smirks, “it’s just music therapy, with Kit, and Zen and a home cooked meal.”

“I fucking hate you,” Saeran mumbles, blushing as Seven tugs Yoosung along behind him towards the garage.

“Try not to kiss the babysitter,” Seven calls over his shoulder and then chirps, “You can drive right Yoosungie?” 

“Y-yeah,” Yoosung frowns and Seven tosses him a set of keys. “Does your brother have a crush on Kit?”

“Ha,” Seven snorts, “uh, no.”

“Which car-”

“Oh, I guess,” Seven glances around, “which one do you want to take?”

“I-I kind of like the r-red one?” Yoosung says quietly.

Seven fumbles with the keyring in his hand and pushes Yoosung’s fingers around one of the car keys, “this one then,” he sings.

Then he steps away to slip inside the pretty red car Yoosung had picked. The car he’d only seen once, when Seven had driven him home just before he disappeared. He brushes the place where Seven’s fingers had touched his, there was something thrilling about all of this.  Maybe he’s a better actor than he thought, maybe Zen was rubbing off on him but this felt like a real date.  Seven was really good at this.

“So,” Seven smiles at him from the passenger seat. “Where are you taking me?”

Yoosung freezes in the idling car, “I what?”

Seven chuckles.  “On our practice date?” He prompts. 

“I uh, I thought you were going to, uh-”

“Yoosung,” Seven laughs, “you asked her out right?  Shouldn’t you have a plan?”

“Oh no,” Yoosung whines, “I didn’t think, I just assumed,” he covers his face and lets his forehead drop against the steering wheel. “We haven’t even gone anywhere and I messed everything up!”

Seven ruffles Yoosung’s hair. “Calm down, it’s ok.  Where do you want to take her.”

“I don’t know,” Yoosung groans.

“Well you can’t take her to the cafe.”

“R-really?” Yoosung says turning to look at Seven. “Why?”

“Because you’ve had her there before, and because Jaehee and Kit would be too distracted by how cute you are to make any money.” Seven laughs and pokes his nose.

His breath catches in his throat. ‘O-oh. S-so where do we go?”

“No where that serves drinks,” Seven smiles. “How about somewhere you feel calm?”

“Calm?”  Yoosung considers, he feels calm playing LOLOL and, “there’s this  _ park _ .”

“Yoosungie,” Seven squeals, “a romantic walk in the park, I’m so  _ excited _ .”

Yoosung was too.

Seven watches Yoosung perk up.  He watches Yoosung start to examine the car.  This was older compared to Seven’s other babies, but a limited edition, custom painted.  It had been payment rather than his other cars that he’d picked out himself.  Yoosung finds the radio controls and switches it on.  He blushes when a popular boyband begins to play loudly from the speaker. 

“You can change it,” he says quickly.

“This is a CD?” Yoosung smirks.

Seven crosses his arms and pouts, “Are you going to tease me?  The man who holds the keys to your browser history?”

Yoosung presses his lips together, “I-I like them too.” He admits.

“I know,” Seven smiles.

It’s hard not to watch how diligently Yoosung pays attention when he drives.  How strictly he keeps to the rules of the road.  A person who has only driven enough to get their license and is not yet comfortable to relax into the casual rule breaking of a regular driver.  Seven considers loaning Yoosung the car for his real date.

Yes, he reminds himself, it feels like a punch in the gut but this isn’t real.  This is pretend, a fantasy for him, a practice run for Yoosung.  He can’t really  _ let _ Yousung kiss him at the end of the night.  No matter how well it all goes, not matter how much he wants to. Seven can not kiss Yoosung Kim.

“So is there some test I have to pass?” Yoosung asks as he checks his blindspot and begins to change lanes.

“A test?” Seven repeats, caught in a daydream.

“You know, do I have to earn the practice kiss?”  Yoosung is barely blushing when he asks, looking straight ahead.

“Earn?” Seven is having trouble with this, the whole point was for Yoosung to practice kissing right?

“B-because if this was a r-real date,” Yoosung stammers and then stops, forces himself to take a deep breath, “if this was a real date I wouldn’t automatically get a kiss at the end right?”

“I think at this point if you want to kiss her she’s game Yoosung,” Seven says with a chuckle and then, “ _ B-but _ ,” he quickly adds, “I have a very complicated algorithm for first date success, you have to fill my love meter if you want your kiss cutie pie!”

“Love metre?  What?” Yoosung snorts.

“Like  _ you’ve _ never played a Dating Sim,” Seven laughs trying to make Yoosung stammer, make him blush, regain the upper hand.

“I, what?” Yoosung’s face twitches.

Seven can’t remember, had he ever actually seen any indication that Yoosung did?  Did he just assume because Yoosung was  _ Yoosung _ that he was interested in them? “You know,” he says quietly, did he assume because  _ he _ liked them that Yoosung automatically did? “Zen did a show based on one once.”  

“Aren’t they for girls though?”  Yoosung pulls off the main road and Seven is surprised to find he has no idea where they’re going.

“Oh uh, I guess but anyone can play, they let  _ you  _ play LOLOL.” Seven smirks and glances at Yoosung.

Yoosung frowns, he grits his teeth and cuts the wheel a little too sharp.  He ignores the comment, Seven cheats at games and if he played fair then maybe Yoosung could beat him for once.  Yoosung tries his best to watch both the road and his best friend's face as he drives down the secondary road.  Seven is surprised, he doesn’t know where they’re going and Yoosung’s heart soars.

He’s not sure why.  He can’t figure out why he feels so light every time Seven smiles at him.  He’s not sure what it was about Seven in the dress that had him feeling  _ something _ .  It’s comfortable, he tells himself. He knows Seven and it’s easy and fun because it’s not real and he knows it’s not real.

Seven is watching out the window as Yoosung pulls into an old parking lot, very few other cars are parked here and Yoosung takes a moment to look at him. The afternoon sun warms his face and his freckles seem more prominent somehow.  Yoosung considers that maybe he’s never looked at Seven’s face so closely before.

“We’re here,” he chirps ignoring the thought that he could draw constellations in his best friends freckles.  

“We’re where?” Seven asks slipping out of the car before Yoosung.  Eager to investigate.

“I uh, I guess it’s not a park anymore,” he says when he catches up. “B-but it was when I was a kid and we came here a lot and I’ve always really liked and I’ve wanted to come here for a while b-but”

“It’s pretty,” Seven says.

It wasn’t anything special, Yoosung thought, but he’d had Zen bring him here a few times after Rika’s funeral and Seven had said somewhere that made him calm.  He’d meant an actual park at first but he found himself turning towards the beach instead.  It’s still cool on the coast and it’s not long before Seven is trying to hide that he’s shivering.

“We can go if your cold,” Yoosung says.

“No,” Seven says softly, they’ve explored places Yoosung remembered playing with his cousins, and found the remnants of stone pathways and wooden boardwalks and Seven is just sitting on an old bolder, taking off his sneakers. “Come on Yoosung we need to walk in the waves, we can’t go until we at least  _ stand _ in the ocean.”

Yoosung follows suit, he slips his sneakers off and sets them next to Seven’s boots, jogging to catch up to the other boy as he marches towards the crashing waves hugging himself.  Yoosung slips his jacket off and lays it over Seven’s shoulders when he catches up.

“Th-thanks,” Seven says through chattering teeth and slips his arms into the coat.

“It’s fine.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

“I have a sweater too, you don’t.”

Seven’s hand slips into his again and there are butterflies in his stomach as they stand in the surf letting the waves gently suck them into the sand.

“You know, the ocean is the same wherever you go,” Seven says softly. “It’s a little warmer or colder in some places, and the sand is different but the waves crash the same, it  _ sounds _ the same, it smells the same, it’s just the ocean.”

Seven’s hand holds his tightly and Yoosung isn’t sure what it is he’s feeling.  This is only the first half of his date with Seven and he wishes he’d planned better.  Wished he’d known when he left his apartment that this is what they’d be doing.  He could have packed them snacks, a blanket to sit on or wrap around their shoulders while he listens to Seven talk about the ocean. 

He could have been prepared to ask Seven about all the different places he’s seen the ocean.  He wants to hear him talk more.  Listen to the far away tone in his voice, the way his eyes glitter gold in the sunlight, the way the copper in his red hair shines like fire.

“You’re gonna be a really good boyfriend, Yoosung,” Seven says quietly as he turns, gently pulling Yoosung back towards their shoes.

The air between them is heavy and Yoosung can’t quite tell why.  The way Seven had said it hadn’t exactly sounded like a compliment but Yoosung didn’t think he was teasing him.  Seven sounded  _ sad _ and it pinched at something deep in his chest.  He didn’t want  Seven to be sad.  Maybe the ocean had been a bad idea, maybe something bad had happened to Seven at the ocean.

“The next stop will be more fun,’ he says cheerfully opening the car door for Seven, “I p-promise.”

“What?” He smiles softly at Yoosung as he starts the car.

“I, you seem,” Yoosung stammers, he checks everything in the car just the way he had in the garage before starting to pull away, “I just thought maybe this wasn’t fun.”

Seven’s smile widens, “Yoosung I love the ocean, if this were a real date it would have been perfect.”

Yoosung doesn’t answer, his stomach does backflips and he doesn't know what to say.  Not with how soft Seven is speaking, not with this feeling between them.  Yoosung can’t help but wonder why he sounds so sad if this has been perfect.   _ If this were a real date _ , the words hang in the air and Yoosung corrects it in his head  _ if this had been a real date I would have let you wear the dress you wanted and kissed you in the waves _ .

His eyes dart to Seven, sitting in the passenger's seat staring wistfully at the ocean.  Yoosung swallows, his face is hot and he feels a bubble of panic in his chest.  He knows he didn’t say it outloud but the thought catches him off guard and Seven was always so good at reading him.  Seven could practically read his mind.

_ Please don’t look at me _ , Yoosung thinks, trying to control the way his heart pounds, the way he can feel his pulse in lips, the way his heart beats so loud it echos in his ears and he’s sure if Seven looks at him now he’ll be able to see.

“You alright Yoosungie?” Seven asks turning to glance at him.  Hands gripping the wheel tightly the car still idling in the mostly empty parking lot.

_ Stop looking at me _ , Yoosung thinks but he makes himself nod slowly.

“Do you want me to drive?” Seven asks.

He starts to shake his head no but then changes his mind, if Seven drives then he won’t spend so much time looking at him, his best friend won’t pick these thoughts out of his head.  He nods and Seven reaches out, gently covers his hand on the steering wheel, but pulls back quickly. too quickly, before he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

Yoosung’s hands shake, and it takes him two tries to get his seatbelt off.  Seven’s face looks concerned when he gets out of the car and all Yoosung can think is  _ he knows _ .  Seven knows, he can see it in his face, he absolutely knows.  Yoosung takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself before he gets back into the car.

Seven smiles at him nods his head and there’s a look on his face Yoosung can’t place.  A shrill panicked voice in his head chants  _ he knows _ , over and over and Yoosung wants to stop it, wants to demand it tell him what Seven knows.  Wants to demand Seven tell him what he knows, what he wants, because he’s not even sure he knows himself.

“Where are we going now?” Seven asks, not looking at him this time.

Yoosung chews the inside of his cheek for a minute before he answers with an address.  He wants it to be a surprise, maybe Seven knows the place by the street but he hopes not.  Something changed between them in the water, or more likely something had simply changed for Yoosung.  Some switch had been flicked.

Yoosung wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t that ignorant of his own mind to not know he found men attractive.  Maybe a few years ago he’d told himself he liked gay porn because it seemed more genuine, but the lie hadn’t lasted long.  He understood that he liked boys and that he liked girls but he’d never considered actually acting on it.  

He had gay friends and bi friends and pan friends but approaching girls was difficult enough.  Yoosung had accepted, around the same time he’d realized he was bi, that he would likely only every approach women.  He knew that made him a coward but that was easier to accept than the idea of actually coming out.

“You know sometimes you’re a lot like Saeran,” Seven says quietly.

“I’m,” Yoosung croaks and clears his throat, “I’m like your brother?”

“Yeah, you both try to hide from me but you’re shitty at it,” he laughs bitterly.

“I-I’m not hiding,” Yoosung stammers.  _ He knows _ , alarm bells ring.

“I can practically hear the cogs and gears in your head.  You and Saeran think so loudly when you’re worried.  No wonder he seems to like you.”

“He  _ likes _ me?” Yoosung says, distracted from his panic.

“Not like, he doesn’t have a crush on you,” Seven chuckles, “why Yoosungie do you have a crush on my brother because I have some bad news for-”

“No,” he says quickly, “no, no I don’t have a crush on your  _ brother _ .”

Seven chuckles. “I just meant that if you don’t want to do this we don’t have to, it was just a thought, a dumb thought, we can go play video games or I can take you home.”

“N-no,” Yoosung stammers again, dropping his voice and glancing out the window. “I want to finish this.”

“You’re sure because it looks like-”

“I want to.”

“Ok,” Seven nods.

Yoosung doesn’t really want to continue the date, he wants to skip to the end, skip to the kiss.  He finds that he  _ needs _ to kiss Seven, not to practice but as a test.  He knows Seven likes guys, he knows Seven has kissed guys. Yoosung needs to know if this feeling is that part of him, the part he’s pushed way down, the part that also likes guys. If it’s the part of himself he never indulges just bubbling to the surface.  If a fake date with a boy has made all the parts of him that want to respond to masculine attention claw their way into his chest so that he felt the pressure of that need threatening to break him.

Seven is his best friend, Seven has too much on his mind, Seven  _ couldn’t _ like him.

In the city Seven doesn’t try to hold his hand. Yoosung is a little relieved, not because someone might see him holding hands with a boy.  He knows if he ever got past his own cowardice he would never want to let go.  He’s relieved because he doesn’t have to try to pick apart the way he feels holding Seven’s hand.

“We could do this at home,” Seven snorts standing outside the internet cafe.

“W-we  _ could _ ,” Yoosung shifts nervously from foot to foot, “b-but this is a date and we can get food here a-and-”

“I’m teasing Yoosung,” Seven laughs and ruffles his hair and his heart lurches.

_ You don’t have a crush on your best friend _ , he chastises himself.

He relaxes once they’ve settled in, sitting side by side.  They order noodles and junk food and fall into playing LOLOL easily.  Seven refuses to play anything that pits them against one another and after many unsuccessful attempts to convince him otherwise Yoosung pouts and agrees to team up.

They’re unbeatable.

Hours pass, they joke and tease each other, they whoop and cheer and for a little while a small crowd gathers.  Yoosung blushes but he’s proud, working together Seven can’t tease him about losing, they make an amazing team.  Seven plays DPS and Yoosung plays Support and they work seamlessly together.

“Are you going to bring Mina here,” Seven asks when they have a minute.

“I uh, I don’t know,” Yoosung shrugs.

“Does she like games?”

Yoosung shrugs, “She never said, she asked me about LOLOL a lot but I don’t think she plays.”

“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t play other games,” Seven says. “But you should ask her.  This might get you into my pants but-”

Yoosung gasps and chokes on the candy in his mouth, a few coughs and it’s clear, he’s gasping a little and Seven is half standing eyes wide with concern and something like fear.  He eases back into his chair.

“A-are you ok, Yoosung?”

Yoosung nods. “S-sorry.”

“Clumsy little Yoosungie,” the look on his face replaced with a smirk.

“Sh-shut up.” Yoosung covers his face.

“I’ll go make sure we’re paid up, you gather this up,” Seven gestures to the empty cans and wrappers spread across their space.

“I should pay,” Yoosung frowns.

“It’s a practice date Yoosung,” Seven smiles softly at him, “save your money for your real date.”

Yoosung’s ears feel hot and he can hear that unreadable tone in Seven’s voice again. “You just want me to clean up your mess for you,” he whines, forcing himself not to fixate on it.

“Bingo bango little buddy,” Seven finger guns and backs away.

Seven watches Yoosung as he backs away, his cheeks are pink and he’s shaking his head muttering to himself.  Seven knows he probably has a smile on his face, a stupid, soft, too readable smile.  He hates himself.

He pays for everything, leaves a big tip and turns around.  Yoosung is standing at the trash cans, finished what he’s doing but just standing there.  He’d relaxed in the internet cafe, they’d had fun playing LOLOL and Seven was glad they could do this, could just fall into something comfortable like playing games together.  Yoosung was better than he gave him credit for and they were a good team.

He’d been off since the beach though, keeping something to himself. Seven knows this was a bad idea, he should have stopped it, should have never suggested it.  He kept  _ slipping _ , kept falling from Seven to Saeyoung.  He wanted to merge those two sides of himself, wanted to find some happy medium of the goofy persona people expected from him and the very real person that hid behind the jokes and pranks.

He’d fallen into Saeyoung too much tonight and he could see it made Yoosung uncomfortable, the way he’d shut down in the car.  He wonders if it’s his melancholy or was he obvious.  Without his life at stake he had stopped keeping such a tight leash on his emotions, more for Saeran than himself.  

It came so natural to them, to hide what they’re feeling, and yet he’d done it out of necessity for so long, he’s not sure how me managed to survive.

It’s that exact issue that has him step up behind Yoosung and, after laying the borrowed blazer over his shoulders, causes him to snake his arms around the smaller boy.  Yoosung isn’t as small as he remembers anymore, he’s almost as tall a Seven, might be taller soon enough.

Yoosung leans into the hug, relaxes and sighs, his head starts to tilt back and Seven lets himself indulge, just for a moment, if this were a real date this would be where they kissed.  Yoosung would keep tilting his head back, Seven would hug him tighter and they would press their lips together.  Yoosung would turn, wrap his own arms around Seven’s neck and hold him there while they kissed.  Soft tentative first kisses.  The kind of kisses he’s only dreamed about.

But then Yoosung stiffens and mumbles something and Seven lets his grip slack.  Yoosung doesn’t move right away, he’s almost reluctant when he does.  Seven sighs.  He wants to kiss Yoosung but not if he’s uncomfortable.  Yoosung seemed determined, regardless, to go through with this.  

“Are you ready to go?” Seven says, trying to keep his voice steady.  This was the end of the date after all, there was only one thing left and there was absolutely no way his lame love meter excuse could work now.  

The beach had been perfect, even if Yoosung hadn’t realized how much he loved the ocean, standing in the surf holding his hand while they sunk into the sand, Yoosung lending him his slightly too small jacket?  It had been perfect, it had been hard to remember it was fake.  It had almost hurt and he’d hated that he let himself forget for even a moment.

Yoosung had looked so uncomfortable in the car, he’d sat there behind the wheel while she idled and just stared ahead, a frown plastered on his pale face. No matter how many opportunities he gave him Yoosung wouldn’t relent.  Seven didn’t know how to feel about it.  Yoosung didn’t want to kiss him, he just wanted to learn how to kiss.  Seven respected his dedication.

It was going to ruin him.

“Can I drive,” Yoosung asks as the door to the cafe swings shut behind them.

“Really?” Seven is a little surprised, maybe he will lend this car to Yoosung for his real date, he thinks.  Any opportunity to remember this isn’t real.

“I-if it’s ok with you?” Yoosung is blushing when Seven lets himself look at him.

“Yeah, you can,” he holds out the keys and hesitates, “do you want to borrow her to impress your girl?”

Yoosung’s face does a thing, just for a second.  If he wasn’t trained to be completely aware of the people around him, of their body language, if he hadn’t spent his childhood anticipating his safety based on the way his mother’s face twitched, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed.  But he does notice as he drops the keys into Yoosung’s waiting hand.

“Thanks,” Yoosung says, barely opening his mouth and not looking at him.

“You need all the help you can get,” Seven teases elbowing him a little.

“Jerk,” Yoosung snorts, but he’s smiling now. “Where are we going now?”

“Well,” Seven considers, “if this was a real date you’d take me home, but I think we should go to your place and then I’ll go home from there, no need for you to take the bus.”

“Oh,” Yoosung says softly.

“You have class tomorrow and it’s getting late Yoosung,” Seven says before he ducks into the car.

“Ok Mom,” Yoosung laughs buckling his seatbelt.

The car comes to life and Seven presses his lips together.  Everything seemed to be moving very fast now, Yoosung didn’t even check the dash this time. “I didn’t know you had an Oedipus complex Yoosung.”

“Uh, a what?” Yoosung says, not looking at him, smile still curling his lips.

“Mommy kink,” Seven deadpans and the smile drops.  Maybe he can embarrass him, make him mad so that he refuses to kiss him.

“N-no,” Yoosung stammers, “that’s, that’s weird Seven.”

“Well I wasn’t kink shaming, everyone has their thing,” he chuckles and Yoosung’s hands clench on the wheel.

“That’s not, it’s not mine, ok.” Yoosung insists.

Seven is pretty sure he’s not lying, Yoosung hadn’t ever had anything like that in his search history.  Jumin had once but Seven is pretty sure that was curiosity not wank material, and Zen had once but Seven tried not to think to hard about the shit Zen looked up, combined and in the order it happened even Seven couldn’t make sense of that.

“Hmm, well what is yours?” He presses on with his attempt to make Yoosung too embarrassed to follow through.

“I-I don’t, I don’t think I have any,” Yoosung lies. His cheeks red, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“Well you know what I really like, I really like-”

“That’s fine,” Yoosung almost yells.

“Ice cubes,” Seven finishes.

“Wait what?” Yoosung stammers glancing towards him. “That’s a thing?”

“Oh yeah,” Seven nods, “When someone makes their mouth cold before they go down on you.”

“O-oh,” he quickly goes back to looking forward.

“I’m kind of a sadist,” Seven smirks.  Yoosung’s blush spreading, “no one really lets me tie them up though, just that once and I didn’t really get to enjoy it.  You know how weird it is to think  _ if I pretend I’m into this I can escape without actually having to fuck this person _ , and then you finish tying them up and realize  _ oh no this is a thing for me _ .  It’s kind of disappointing because you can’t really appreciate a properly trussed up partner when you have to make it extraction in ten you know?”

“I, no,” Yoosung swallows.

“Are you sure you don’t have even one thing?” Seven says poking him in the side.

The car swerves a little and Seven laughs.  He already knows most of Yoosung’s things but maybe if he can make him say it out loud he’ll be too embarrassed to look at Seven let alone try to kiss him.

“E-even if I did,” Yoosung says quietly, “I don’t have to tell you.”

“You’ll have to tell her eventually,” Seven says, “if you can’t tell  _ me _ how will you tell her?”

“We have t-time,” he reasons, “I don’t have to tell her everything right away.”

“But there’s something to tell?” Seven smirks leaning on the armrest between them and fluttering his false eyelashes at Yoosung.

Yoosung shrugs and parks the car on the street near his building.

Seven is teasing him because he knows, Yoosung is certain that’s what this is.  He wants to push him until he admits it so he can tease him.  God Yoosung can’t stand when he gets like this.  He always had a hard time knowing where the line was.

Seven is still looking up at him through his fake eyelashes and Yoosung does his best to turn the situation around, “S-so how does this work?”

“You just say the thing you want to do to the other person,” Seven grins.

“No the kissing,” Yoosung frowns.

Seven sputters, “the uh, oh.  Well I guess traditionally we’d walk to the door and then you’d ask, or I guess you don’t have to ask but it’s always best to ask.”  Seven stops to take a breath, he runs a shaky hand through red hair and Yoosung has a moment to contemplate that his friend looks nervous. “But that’s kind of, you know, movie stuff. I guess if this was the end of our date I would probably kiss you in the car.”

Seven is blushing, he’s still leaning on the arm rest, but he’s looked away from Yoosung, and from this position Yoosung lets himself consider that  _ maybe _ Seven might like him, maybe just a little bit.  He’s probably lying to himself.  This is just practice anyway, Seven is just a good friend but the thought helps.  It helps to consider this practice first kiss, is at least on someone who wants to actually kiss him. Even if it is a lie.

Yoosung leans closer and presses a quick peck to the corner of Seven’s mouth, “Like this,” he says softly and when Seven turns, golden eyes wide Yoosung presses their lips together properly.  He lays his hands on the armrest between Seven’s elbows and leans into the kiss.

It’s awkward, their lips moving against each other and he has no idea what he’s doing, what degree of kissing is expected. Should he open his mouth, should he use his tongue?  Should his hands be doing something? Should his eyes be open or closed.

There’s a click and then Seven pulls away and Yoosung watches dazed as the seat belt slips off of his shoulders.  He moves to take his off but Seven stops him. “W-was it ok?”

“A perfectly acceptable first try,” Seven nods and reaches across his lap.  He hits a button and the seat slides back before he climbs over the center console. “Is  _ this _ ok?”

Seven’s voice is lower than usual and Yoosung nods slowly as one big hand brushes his cheek and Seven leans over him.  Their lips slot together more naturally than when Yoosung had lead the kiss.  Yoosung tries to let him lead, tries to commit the way his lips move to memory.  Seven’s tongue traces his bottom lip and Yoosung finds himself opening his mouth, his own tongue darting out eagerly to meet his friends.  

He’s aware of just how sloppy and inexperienced he is as Seven’s fingers tighten in his hair and pull his head back.  He whines a little when Seven pulls away.  But those gold eyes glint in the street lamp and Seven’s voice rasps out, “Keep still.”

Yoosung nods and licks his lips.  Seven smirks and bends forward but this time he laps at Yoosung’s throat.  His tongue teases at Yoosung’s pulse point, he laps and sucks at Yoosung’s neck and despite the order Yoosung leans in to nuzzle at Seven’s throat, it’s awkward but he tries to mimic what’s being done to him and he thinks maybe he does ok because Seven lets out a low moan, his thighs squeeze around Yoosung and his hips roll just slightly.

_ Oh god _ , Yoosung thinks, trying his best not to give in to the desire to roll up into that.  He’s sure Seven didn’t mean that, as much as he’d like to think otherwise, as much as he wants to pretend this is a real first kiss, real first make out.  It’s not, this is a lesson. He stops and presses his head back against the headrest.

Seven kisses his way up Yoosung’s throat, along his jaw and despite his resolution to follow orders Yoosung finds himself moving again, raising his hands to grasp at Seven’s shirt. The fabric is soft and the muscles of Seven’s back are surprisingly firm underneath it.  As his friends lips find his again his hands start to move down.  Seven’s tongue fucks in and out of his mouth teasing at his own until they’re sliding together.

Yoosung’s hand trace the curve of Seven’s back and before he even realizes what it is he’s going to do they’re grasping his ass, squeezing through the floral denim.  Seven groans into his mouth and his hips roll into Yoosung’s, this time he can’t stop himself from lifting his hips to chase the friction, to press their groins together and Sevens hips buck again as Yoosung uses his grip on his ass to pull him closer.

“Hnng, S-Seven,” Yoosung whimpers when Seven pulls off suddenly.  He’s forgotten why they’re here, what they’re doing besides this, he doesn’t want it to stop, god.  He wants to keep going, he wants Seven to touch him, he wants Seven to teach him everything he needs to know.

“Sorry,” Seven says softly and the car door opens. “I didn’t, sorry Yoosung.” Seven steps out of the car.

He watches Yoosung in the Driver’s seat.  Why did he do that, why did he let himself do that.  Yoosung hadn’t told him no, Yoosung had  _ let _ him do that.  He knew he would, he knew exactly what Yoosung liked, and Yoosung had initiated the kiss so confidently.  It had been so cute. He’d only meant to make it easier, hadn’t meant to do that.

No, he hadn’t meant to start giving orders, hadn’t meant to make out with him, or dry hump him or.

“I should go Yoosung,” he says.

Yoosung is still buckled in, still sitting dazed in the driver’s seat.  His lips swollen and spit slick. Seven can still taste him, the peach candies he’d been eating at the internet cafe and the soda he’d drank.  Yoosung wets his lips, his pupils still blown as he turns slowly to look up at Seven.

“O-ok,” Yoosung nods and he tries to get out before he remembers his seat belt.

Seven can’t help but laugh, despite himself, and how stupid  _ he _ was Yoosung was cute, and flustered and for whatever reason Yoosung wasn’t angry at him for doing this.

“Sorry,” he says again, head hung low as Yoosung steps beside him.

“For what?”

Seven doesn’t know how to answer so he shrugs.

“W-was I ok?” Yoosung asks and Seven can see more behind those purple eyes, he can only imagine the kind of things Yoosung might want ask him.  

Things like  _ Seven what the fuck _ ? 

He swallows, “yeah Yoosung, good lesson, I don’t, uh I don’t think you needed me after all.” He closes the door quickly as he slips behind the wheel.  He doesn’t look at Yoosung standing on the sidewalk watching him as he adjusts the seat.  Doesn’t glance back at him as he pulls out and leaves.

God why was he like this.  At least he knows his brother is in the same boat.  Saeran was too anxious to do things like accidentally dry hump Zen though.  So he had that going for him.  He could go home, wake Saeran up if he was asleep and they could watch one of Saeran’s haunted shows while they ate ice cream and talked about boys they’d never actually get to date.

At least that’s what he thought.  He parks on the street in front of the bunker.  It’s a good neighborhood, and he’s not hiding anymore.  He can do this simple thing to remind himself he’s his own person now.  No one is out to get him and maybe Yoosung will never be in love with him but he could go out now, maybe meet someone who would if he wanted to.

He bypasses the gate, and slips in the door quietly, it’s later than he thought and he knows Kit is gone because there’s been a text from her at some point during the fake date.  He figures after spending the day with three people Saeran is probably asleep and he wants to make as little noise as possible.  Agent training was still good for something.

He should have made more noise.

The lights are off but the TV is still on.  Music videos are playing and at first he thinks maybe Saeran just left them on, he probably needs the ambient noise alone in the bunker.  That’s what he tells himself as he slips his boots off and walks softly to the kitchen.  He flicks on the light and there’s a startled sound followed by a growl.

He should just keep moving, he thinks.  He definitely should turn the light back off and just go to his room.  He should not turn towards that sound.

But tonight is a night he does a lot of things he shouldn’t do.

Saeran is glaring at him over the back of the couch, his lips are swollen, there’s a dark mark blossoming on his throat and his hair is a tangled mess.  “I thought you’d call before you came home,” he growls.

“I uh,” Seven rubs at the back of his neck and moves towards the hall, “I thought you’d be asleep, sorry, didn’t mean-Sorry.”

Saeran is jostled slightly, he shoots a look towards the couch before he moves and then, very slowly Zen stands up.  Pale skin flushed pink, hair loose, Seven tries not to notice the bite marks on his shoulder.  Neither of them look one another in the eye.  The RFA is in rare form tonight.  Maybe he’ll log into the messenger to find out if Jumin and V had fucked.

“I’ll uh, I guess you’re home now so I’ll go,” Zen says.

Seven just shrugs. They both bolt, Seven for his room before his brother can yell at him or question him and Zen for the door as soon as his shoes are on his feet.

At least it didn’t look like that was accidental.  His brother might be armpit deep in recovery but at least he wasn’t forcing himself on people.  He’s a little surprised that Zen didn’t need more time to come to terms with how gay he really was, not like the rest of the RFA hadn’t noticed.   _ If Yoosung was a girl _ , Jesus christ Zen.

Seven slips of the tight jeans, tosses his shirt into the corner and peels off his fake eye lashes before falling into bed.  

Kissing Yoosung had been a stupid mistake, offering to teach him to kiss, teach him to date, why would he do that do himself?  Why would he even indulge himself in that fantasy.  It was one thing before but now a real live girl had a crush on him.  It wasn’t fair to any of them to do whatever this was.  

But kissing Yoosung had been  _ good _ , it had been so long since he’d kissed someone he wanted to kiss, touched someone he wanted to touch.  Yoosung wanted to follow orders, he wasn’t very good at it but he tried.  He can still feel the way Yoosung’s chubby fingers had dug into his ass.  Still feel the way he’d felt half hard grinding against him.

Seven doesn’t even notice that he’s touching himself at first, he can hear the way Yoosung had gasped, and whimpered, the way he’d panted out  _ Seven _ .  If he tries he can hear his real name in that breathy voice.  He pushes his boxers down, grips his cock at the base and imagines it.

Yoosung on his knees in front of him, Yoosung’s big lilac eyes wide and trusting as he begs him.  He imagines fucking into Yoosung’s open mouth, he feels his hands on his ass again and he rolls his hips into his fist.  

Yoosung’s tongue had been so nimble and eager and he can almost feel it teasing at his cock as he strokes.  God, he should feel guilty, why can’t he just turn on some porn, jerk off to strangers faking it for cash like a normal person.

But then he remembers Yoosung’s mouth on his neck, he hadn’t asked him to do that he just did and god, no one had touched him in so long.  He hadn’t wanted anyone to, barely touched himself but god.  Yoosung was so eager.  Seven sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, god he could just imagine Yoosung’s face while he sucked him off.

The way his mouth would slack the way he’d whimper as he teased him.  

Maybe in some other world another Seven, who was never an agent and only goes by one name, gets to be Yoosung Kim’s first everything.  That red head who doesn’t steal kisses and jerk off to his best friend deserves to suck Yoosung’s cock.

He leans back presses two fingers into his ass, he doesn’t wait, he’s done this plenty of times, he strokes himself, pistons his fingers in and out curling them to press against his prostate and pictures Yoosung between his thighs, the soft moans he’s swallowed earlier playing on repeat though his mind until he has to roll over and bury his face in a pillow to muffle his own.

He cums hard, crying Yoosung’s name into his pillow and feeling like the worst friend on the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, next chapter is going to be a Saeran Intermission chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermission Chapter? How about what Saeran thinks about everything so far, what do the rest of the RFA think about Seven and Yoosung?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first probably 1000 words of this are very raw. Trigger warning for drug use, for the f-Slur, for coerced sex and hard trigger warning for suicide attempt. After that it should be clear sailing. Search for "He loses the first two weeks" to skip it.

Saeran had watched the RFA as long as he could remember.  It felt like the beginning of time, everything before was blurry, floaty, not real.  Everything before he watched them was a question.  A game he played with the man who was probably his brother, somewhere deep inside the man he pretended to be. 

Everything outside of them, outside of watching and hacking and keeping notes, that was a blur.  Another game, one he liked much less.  He barely remembers Saeyoung getting him out.  It’s hot and white and burns too bright.  Blurs together like a wildfire after it spreads.  A blank space between the time when the RFA was everything and the horrible moment when he was sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing into a telephone because he’d really thought he wanted everything to end until very quickly it was ending.

Normal was too much for him, and it had been easy enough to score.  He knew no one was so eager to work the hours his nurse signed on for.  No amount of cash in hand would really make up for having to spend hours babysitting him.  His brother was still keeping him here.  Out of sight, away from the people he actually cared about.

He’d seen her take a pill the second day she was there.  She flopped down on the couch next to him, jostling everything causing his pencil to dart too rough against the sketch pad. She’d chuckled and switched the TV from the music station he’d been listening to, to some grating comedy he couldn’t bare to watch and he’d stared at her, menacing from the other side of the couch.

He’d told her she was rude, suggested she fucking share, tried to make it a joke.  He could see the way her eyebrow raised, the way her eyes raked over his body.  She wouldn’t tell on him, because then he could tell on her.  No one really grew past kindergarten.  Everyone was easy to read.  His brother was embarrassed by him, and this girl wanted to fuck him.  

So he did what he had to do.  He’s not really interested in women.  Likes the idea of them but in practice there was nothing appealing about them.  If he talked to Chu about it he’d probably say it had to do with the fact that he’d been used by women for all of his life, that his interactions with men had been less predictable and more consensual.  He wasn’t going to talk to Chu about it.

Then his idiot fucking brother, and his idiot fucking doctor decide he’s  _ well enough _ to be on his own.  And she’s not getting paid enough to give him whatever she was keeping in her pocket for the pleasure of sucking his dick while he fingers her.  He wants the pills and she wants more.  He barely makes it through, has to fake it at the end and she  _ knows _ , she  _ laughs _ , she calls him a faggot and throws a couple pills at him.

She lies, she doesn’t check on him and he doesn’t tell, doesn’t have anything to take.  He doesn’t even really know what she was giving him besides that it was a familiar pill, something he’d sure he’d seen in Magenta.  Withdrawal kicks in fast, he hides it from his brother, stops taking the pills Chu had given him.  Then he finds the bottle of vodka at the back of the cupboard and he knows.

He’s not an idiot, not like his brother.  Saeyoung might be embarrassed by him but there’s something there so he gives him a good night.  Let’s him feel like they’re maybe friends, eats his ice cream, laughs at his stupid jokes and he doesn’t even hate the movie his brother picks out.  He lets his brother talk like maybe there’s a future for them that doesn’t suck.  Like maybe they can stay here forever and this night could be every night.

Maybe Saeran could be ok, maybe they’d both be ok.

Like ok was ever an option for either of them.

Then there’s half a bottle of vodka and a handful of pills in his stomach and his first thought is that maybe he should google how many of those pills is enough.  He means to, maybe he should drink the whole bottle.  Everything is fuzzy and it’s his brother’s reflection he sees when he lifts his phone.  His stupid brother with his stupid dreams.

He rips the glasses off his face, slams the bottle down on them, and it’s stupid, he can’t see to look up  _ whatever _ he’d wanted to know. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, marches himself back to the bathroom, another handful can’t hurt, he’s going to die anyway, that’s the whole point right?

But then there’s his brother in the fucking mirror and then things are blank, and he’s standing in front of the mirror with a knife in one hand and a fist full of hair in the other and that stupid fucking eye on his arm staring at him.

Sometime between the decision to cut that fucking thing off his arm and the tight feeling in his chest he starts to have regrets.  Then everything is blank again and he’s on the floor and his brother is in front of him.  Saeyoung kneeling on the floor in that plain jacket that doesn’t look right somehow and his red hair toned auburn and his eyes wet, tears spilling down his cheeks telling him how good he is, how everything is going to be alright, how he’s cared for.

That he’s wanted, loved.

He’s not sure what he actually says, he wants to ask if he’s so loved, if he’s cared for and not a monster then where is the RFA, why are they here, why are they isolated.  He says  _ something _ maybe even something close to what he wants because his brother’s face blanks and then he reaches for him and Saeran wants to reach back but everything is heavy, his chest is heavy.

He vaguely remembers being asked what he took, what he did, he vaguely remembers the moment his heart stopped, the chaos.  He clearly remembers every brief flash of his brother’s face.  Blank silhouettes surround him in his memory but Saeyoung’s stricken face flashing between their shoulders as they move haunts him.

He loses the first two weeks in the hospital.  He was restrained, he knows because when his memory cuts in again he has marks on his wrists, his brother tells him, after a lot of prodding, that he tried to hurt a doctor.  Saeran can tell by the way he plays with the zipper on his coat that he probably tried to hurt Saeyoung too.

So he goes to the group therapy they tell him to go to, goes three times and really tries before he has to admit that it’s too hard, there are too many people.  He sees Chu again, has to confess about the nurse and the drugs and everything that happened.  He begs the old man not to tell his brother.  The doctor shakes his head and Saeran trains his eyes on the wobble in the old man’s jowls as he explains that he’ll only explain the necessary parts.

He takes his pills, he eats his meals and he follows orders.  He maintains his attitude, it’s all he has left, doesn’t know who he is if he’s not this.  Doesn’t really know how not to be rough any more.  He stops avoiding eye contact with his brother.  He’s even a little excited when he comes back from ECT to find his brother in his room bouncing on the balls of his feet with a big goofy grin on face.

“You want to go home?” Saeyoung says, cheeks a little red.

He has freckles, Saeran notices.  He wonders if he’ll get freckles too. “I uh, I didn’t fuck it up too much?”

Saeyoung’s smile waivers for a moment. “N-no, not there.   _ Home _ , the, you know the bunker?  My house.”

“Your,” Saeran trails off.  The little bungalow in the city. “You mean, uh, what about-”

“The Agency?” Saeyoung chuckles. “I’m dead and Vanderwood is the only one who knew where it was.”

Saeran is quiet, his heart is warm watching his brother’s face and he takes a moment to wonder if maybe he’d thought to ask, just once, if that would have changed anything.  But he knows Jumin Han is the only person his brother talks to.  It’s another week before they can go, another skin graft on his arm, the last one and they’re done.  

His brother is handing him a duffel of clothing, no more stupid soft sweaters, he’d been given his contacts back as soon as he was able to put them in himself and now he had this bag of things that felt real.  Felt like him.  He changes in the bathroom of his hospital room.

“Look at you, very punk rock,” Saeyoung smiles with a thumbs up.

He flips him off but he smiles too.  Fingers teasing the choker on his neck, not quite the same but close enough to feel like himself.

It takes 3 days to get to the city, his brother lets him drive sometimes, sits rigid in the passenger seat.  Saeyoung breaths in hisses and complains, so he takes turns a little too sharply, a little too fast just to hear him make that choked sound.  They argue, and they laugh, and he spends a lot of time asking  _ was this real _ .

He watches the way his brother’s face changes when he asks. “I remember ice cream,” he says, “and clouds, and we got in trouble.”

“Real,” Saeyoung says with a nod of his head.

“She tied me up,” Saeran says later.

“Real,” his brother says quietly, and his mouth looks pinched.

He doesn’t like that, the way his brother looks when he talks about the bad things.  He considers asking him if it’s because he left him there but he doesn’t.  It’s easy to hurt Saeyoung, he realizes and something inside him grows warm.  He watches his brother, and he no longer thinks  _ traitor _ , he asks questions and he can recognize the need to question it, and he quells that.  He sees his brother react and he realizes that they’re both fucked up but now he’s the strong one.

“I’m older than you,” he says suddenly.  Interrupting a long story, the fourth in a series of stories of pranks he’s pulled on Yoosung.  They’re laying on their backs staring at the ceiling of a cheap motel room a few hours outside the city and Saeran knows his brother is stalling.

“Yeah,” Saeyoung says, the word is drawn out and curious.

“You’re my little brother,” He says, turning his head away slightly so that Saeyoung can’t see him smile.

“I guess,” his brother says, “I’m still bigger than you,” he points out.

“But I’m older,” Saeran deadpans.

“By seven minutes,” and there’s an edge of irritation to Saeyoung’s voice.

It only spurs him on.  He smirks. “My baby brother,” Saeran chuckles.

“Good night,” he hears the other bed creak and the lamp flickers out and Saeran laughs quietly to himself.

He’d hacked his brother’s security more than once.  Saeran had seen the bunker before, on a screen but it’s surreal to find himself stepping into it.  He stands in the garage in awe next to his brother who stares with wet eyes at a silver car parked out of place in the middle of the floor.  Saeran continues to stand in his brother’s space as Saeyoung’s feet begin to move.

He jumps at a loud bang and his brother’s stupid smirking face, “This is your room.”

He doesn’t mind the monitors, the one under the mattress the camera in the corner.  Months ago he would have prickled, would have leapt to the assumption that his brother didn’t trust him.  Those things still pick at the back of his mind but Saeran knows this isn’t malicious, this is fear.  Saeyoung straining, grasping for reassurance and Saeran wishes he could talk.  Wishes he knew how to talk to Saeyoung the way he used to, the way he talked in therapy but when he looks into his brother’s golden eyes it’s hard.

So he doesn’t, maybe another time.

Saeyoung calls Jumin Han, only Jumin Han, and there are doctors and his brother greases palms, takes him to meet them, and then they talk about his options and Saeran picks his own doctor.  They find a clinic for his ECT, they find him all the treatments that had been working for him and his brother takes him shopping.

He gets to be a person. He’s not ok, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be ok, but he decides maybe ok is a sliding a scale and maybe eventually this  _ will _ be ok.

Saeyoung’s taste in most things is bad.  He likes shitty movies, shitty boxed dinners, and equally shitty jokes.  Saeran finds he doesn’t mind.  He kind of  _ likes _ giving Saeyoung shit for his bad taste.  Kind of likes giving him shit for not eating better, or sleeping better.  Saeyoung takes him grocery shopping.  He lets him cook most nights, complains  _ always _ , whines about vegetables, or fish or anything that gets a rise out of Saeran.

Saeyoung doesn’t really contact the RFA.  He talks to Jumin, he stares longingly at the cafe Saeran knows is owned by the female member and the woman he’d tried to kidnap. Saeran still has the app on his phone, still has backdoor access, the ability to lurk in the chatroom unnoticed and he watches the RFA.

It’s different now, there’s no rush, he just watches.  He thinks maybe he’ll see something, maybe he’ll figure out how to get his brother to talk to his friends.  Maybe he can get Saeyoung to go somewhere if he sees that Yoosung or Zen will be there.  He knows somewhere in the back of his mind he wants to meet them too.  It makes his heart pound.

Some nights Saeyoung lurks too, he doesn’t know Saeran is there, bc he’s not looking.  Saeran’s app is programed to alert him when anyone is there, even lurking.  He wonders if his brother knew that V lurked there too.

“You should talk to them,” he says quietly as they drive past the cafe again and his brothers eyes linger so long that they almost run a red light.

“What?”

“They’re your friends right?  Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

“It’s complicated.”

Saeran thinks a lot of things are complicated but not the RFA.  Not having people who care about you.  He thinks his brother is the dumbest smart person he’s ever met.

Then Jumin Han shows up and Jumin Han is not afraid of him, his eyes don’t shift when he makes his own shitty joke.  Jumin Han doesn’t pity him or fear him, he’s a person to this man who has only ever known him through his symptoms and Saeran instantly likes him.

Yoosung Kim practically breaks down the door and Saeran realizes something quite abruptly.  His brother loves this boy.  He realizes this as he lays on the sofa watching his brother panic about Yoosung at their door, the way he tells Saeran to  _ be nice _ even though he’s never asked Saeran to be anything but himself ever. 

It’s cemented in his mind when he sees the completely lost look on his brother’s face as Yoosung shouts at him with tears in his eyes.  He’d only been joking when he’d announced Yoosung as his brother’s boyfriend but now, Saeran smirks.

It’s short lived though.  He finds himself making his way quickly out of the room, wanting to to tease more but not wanting to embarrass himself with a panic attack.  He gets himself under control without needing another pill and he’s quietly proud of that.

He likes when Yoosung visits.  He likes the RFA.  He likes to watch them so when his brother cautiously mentions the cafe he wants to go there.  Wants to meet them.  He can’t bring himself to say it though.  So he stays aloof makes his brother go.  He keeps to himself.

_ Zen is pretty _ , he thinks that night watching the tall man come back into the cafe.  His cheek rosy, his mouth making a kind of heart shape when he laughs loudly and openly and god Saeran wishes he could do anything with that little care.  

He’s not sure what they do at these meetings. It seemed like tonight’s meeting was more about Yoosung Kim getting a girlfriend than anything else and Saeran can see just how uncomfortable with the topic his brother is.  He could have left any time after he finished the cakes the pretty lady he’d lured to Rika’s apartment gives him.  He likes watching his brother squirm.

He’d been watching the RFA for as long as time existed for him.  He’d been watching his brother and Yoosung interact, for almost as long.  Emotionally Saeyoung was still the little boy he remembered from their childhood.  A little boy who doesn’t know how to be soft, who falls into little boy stereotypes of teasing and taunting instead of simply letting himself have a warm feeling.

Saeran had always know that Yoosung liked it.

He wonders if the rest of the RFA are as oblivious as the two friends who are obviously in love with each other.

He likes to watch them chat.  Likes it when they talk about him.  He’s surprised that Yoosung isn’t the first.  

**[Zen]:** So Seven has a brother.   
**[Jumin Han]** : Are you surprised?   
**[Zen]:** You’re not?   
**[Jumin Han]:** I was aware   
**[Yoosung]:** What!?   
**[Zen]:** huh?   
**[Jumin Han]:** I chose to keep the information to myself.  The man is in recovery, he did not need to be overwhelmed by whatever ridiculousness you would come up with.   
**[Zen]:** God   
**[Yoosung]:** He seemed ok when I met him   
**[Yoosung]:** Grumpy I guess.     
**[Zen]:** he was so quiet, he doesn’t seem like Seven at all.   
**[Zen]:** is he going to join the RFA   
**[Jumin]:** if he wants.   
**[Zen]:** People will probably think he’s my brother.   
**[Jumin]:** I can’t imagine why, they’d have to be fools   
**[Zen]:** We’re both very attractive.  Maybe people will think we’re related.   
**[Jumin]:** Perhaps people will think you’re dating.   
**[Yoosung]:** Seven always makes a pretty girl

Saeran drops his phone, straight on his face.  He curses, rubs his cheek but the whole app has closed and he has to start it again.  When he’s back his brother is in the chatroom actually talking.  Saeran rolls his eyes, the obnoxious prankster persona he’d cultivated was obviously difficult to maintain.  

Saeran wishes he knew how to talk to anyone, but especially Saeyoung.  He shuffles out of his room, into the kitchen.  He watches his brother lying upside down on the couch frowning at his phone.  Saeran sips at a glass of water not quite unnoticed and thinks he knows exactly what to say, he just can’t make himself say it.

He wants to tell his brother to stop fucking around, to be himself.  He wants to tell him these clueless idiots all fucking love him and he doesn’t have to be their clown to maintain that.  He stares at him on the couch, runs his fingers through his hair and tugs at the space where he’d butchered it  _ that _ night. As if he could force it to grow just a little faster.

“What,” Saeyoung asks him.  His eyes are a little wet and Saeran looks away.

He tries to say it, tries to tell him everything will still be fine if he stops pretending he’s ok but all that comes out is, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Kit shows up, they’d talked about it that one night but it had felt surreal.  Dr. Rhee had mentioned music therapy and Ms. Cheong and how could he forget the fucked up therapist on a downward spiral he’d lured into a booby trapped apartment.  He suspects Jumin Han could be behind this.

But music is, it’s something.  Drawing had been a process, a thing he taught himself, a target of his frustration that had a tangible outcome, that didn’t  _ hurt _ anyone.  But Music was easy and Kit is kind and understanding and he knows how much they have in common.  He feels at ease, she lets him talk while he tries all the instruments she’s brought with her.  It’s easier to talk about everything to talk about trying to score and the things he’d done with someone who’d hit a similar rock bottom.

When he offers to help her take her things to the car she laughs, a light sound like bells, and she tells him to keep them.  She hugs him and he finds he doesn’t hate it, doesn’t stiffen up or feel sick like he usually does when women touch him.  He pulls his hood up and doesn’t look her in the eye when she pulls away.

“You know,” she says shifting her weight from foot to foot in the garage, “whatever was supposed to happen doesn’t matter.  I met Jaehee because of you, you know?  I’m happy again because of you.” He tugs the hood down tighter so she can’t see his eyes, can’t see them shimmering with tears he doesn’t want to shed.  “There’s a lot of good in you, OK, try to remember when it’s hard that even when you were trying not to you still did good things for people.”

He mumbles something, leaves her standing there in the garage and locks himself in his room.  He has to take a Xanax but he’s excited.  Excited for music, and people who think he’s good and maybe if he’s playing something he can tell his brother something honest.  

The best he can do now is tease his brother about his crush on his best friend.  Maybe if he keeps it up Saeyoung will really talk about it.  Saeran thinks it’s mutual. He thinks he’s been watching people, especially these assholes, long enough that he’d put money on Yoosung feeling the same way about his brother but Yoosung has never mentioned liking boys.

The closet is a deep dark place.

Then Yoosung comes over again, and again, and Saeran finds himself startled staring into those big smiling purple eyes accepting a frozen drink and stammering out,  _ Your hair looks nice today, _ because Rhee has told him to start trying to say nice things to people.  He opens the messenger again, tells himself this bullshit must run in the family because he knows Zen will be there just back from his run.

He kind of hates the stupid smile on his face as he watches Kit and Jaehee tease Zen.  Tries to lie to himself about exactly why he’s still saving all of Zen’s selfies.   _ The lighting _ , he reasons,  _ was very good, the trees in the background, the angles _ .  He definitely doesn’t have a crush on the tall man with the pretty eyes and the easy laugh.  He just  _ respects _ the way he pushes past his obvious anxiety and insecurities.

There’s something going on when he leaves his room.  He hadn’t planned to stay but his brother looks sullen and Yoosung looks nervous.  The Choi twins had a habit of lashing out when they were cornered.  He groans, pushes himself between them.  He finds something to watch, teases Yoosung, wants to make a point to his brother.

There’s something nice about the way Yoosung hides behind him, makes him feel warm and good and he gets a little lost in it before he notices his brother doubled over and he has to wonder what the hell happened while he was lost in his own stupid crush.  He shoves Yoosung off and, spurred by a fuzzy memory, begins to rub small circles into his brother’s back.

He waves Yoosung away.  Saeyoung wouldn’t want anyone to see his mask crack.  The boy doesn’t budge, he stands off to the side and softly talks and Saeran wants to focus on the way his brother’s friend says soft kind things, and what those things are but he’s lost in a memory.  He’s lost being a sick little boy with his brother rubbing his back and whispering quiet promises.

He’s struck again by the role reversal.  He watches Yoosung turn with pink cheeks and rush away.  He can’t help but ask  _ is this real _ , and it helps.  It draws him out and his brother confesses to him, admits he’s a fucking idiot and Saeran can’t help it.  He’s mad.

His brother is an idiot, he has to see his feelings are more than a joke.  More than some light hearted crush and Yoosung.  God he’s too fucking nice, why was Yoosung still there when after the stunt his brother had pulled.  Saeran doesn’t understand and he starts to chastise his brother.  

He’s going to be the big brother, he’s going to tell Saeyoung he’s an idiot and he’s going to mean it but Saeyoung has this look on his face.  Totally lost and floating and Saeran can’t, he groans and he listens to Saeyoung mumble excuses, watches his little brother’s eyes search his face for answers.

“Because you’re fucking pathetically in love with him.” It’s the best he can come up with.

He asks to go to the cafe after his appointment with Rhee.  He has to psych himself up, tries to make it casual but Saeyoung is surprisingly quick for a person who can’t read himself.  Still, this isn’t about him having a crush on anyone.  This is about trying not to keep himself locked up in the bunker forever.  This is about getting to know the RFA and getting his brother to talk to his friends.

Seeing Zen was just a bonus really, he wouldn’t even talk to him probably. 

Therapy is hard.  It hadn’t been lately, things had been better but he starts talking about his brother, about Yoosung, about feeling like the caregiver, the older brother.  Things are fuzzy but Rhee insists he try to follow through, go to the cafe regardless.

“Go,” he says.  He’s younger than Chu, has a kinder face and makes more of an attempt to talk as though they’re friends. “You don’t have to stay but get a drink and a sweet and we both know your brother will take you home if you need to go.”

Saeran grinds his teeth as he nods.  Keeps his hands deep in his pockets while Rhee and Saeyoung discuss his medications and refills and he forces himself to confirm he still wants to go.

Sometimes Saeyoung still took care of him.  His brother orders him a drink and a piece of cake and he finds a seat where he can watch the whole cafe.  Near enough to Zen that he won’t have to speak to loudly if his brother says something stupid.

Of course Saeyoung says something stupid.

Saeyoung is too perceptive.  Saeran knows exactly how to get to him.  He texts Yoosung, invites him to meet them.  Doesn’t expect the kid to show up hammered.  He feels bad.  Saeyoung is torn, he knows Saeyoung wants to take care of his friend but he’s stuck with his fucked up brother.

He watches his brother stand and hiss and hold out his hands and he stifles a snicker.  It was kind of fun to see his brother flustered, maybe that was a shitty thing to think.  Yoosung blurts out something, something about Saeyoung and  _ Rika _ , that they’ve kissed.  His blood is ice for a moment and everything freezes.  Saeyoung looks  _ broken _ for a split second before he turns back to whatever he was doing.  Yoosung mumbling an apology into his arms on the table.

“I could take you home,” Zen says with an easy smile.

“What on your bike?” Saeran snorts.

Zen chuckles, “Yeah, it seats two. Unless you’re scared.”

“Of the way you fucking drive maybe,” Saeran snaps.

“You want to?” Zen smirks at him, eyebrow quirked.

“What, do I want to ride bitch?”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Zen shrugs.

Saeran blushes, glances away, “Saeyoung probably won’t let me.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Zen’s chair scrapes across the floor.  He looks up, face hot, eyes wide and watches the easy way Zen taps on Saeyoung’s shoulder, the way he leans into the conversation.  Zen turns, a big puppy dog smile on his face as he flashes a thumbs up, and falls back into his seat.  He breaks the last of the cookies Saeyoung had bought in half and offers the bigger half to Saeran.

They follow Saeyoung and Yoosung out and he expects Zen to just take him home.  Expects an awkward hour or two before his brother gets back because god knows he’s not exactly fun to talk to.  Zen doesn’t just take him home.  Saeran isn’t sure where they go exactly, the helmet is heavy and he’s never been on a bike before. 

“Don’t fight it,” Zen calls back at one point. “Don’t fight the lean.”

Saeran nods and his helmet thunks into Zen’s.  The other man’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Hold on to me if you want,” he calls back.

Saeran tells himself he’s not going to.  He’s an adult, he’s not scared.  He’s fine.  He doesn’t need to wrap his arms around Zen’s waist, he knows he won’t fall.  He relaxes.  He stops  _ fighting the lean _ , and Zen takes him out of the city.  The roads are windy here and Saeran tells himself that he’s doing this because he wants to.  His arms snake around Zen’s waist as an excuse to touch him.

Because Saeran is going to convince this man to sleep with him.  Not because he feels something, not because he’s scared, because he needs some other outlet and sleeping with someone, especially someone who didn’t realize they wanted to sleep with him, had always been fun.  

Zen follows him back into the bunker, Zen likes his stupid ghost shows.  Zen doesn’t complain about the vegetables when he heats up leftover bibimbap.  Zen argues that he doesn’t need to borrow Saeyoung’s bed as he falls asleep on the couch, slumping slowly sideways until his head rests on Saeran’s shoulder.

His lips are pretty.  Saeran notes that Zen is the kind of person who sleeps with their hands jammed between their thighs.  Zen is kind of disgusting when he sleeps. He snores  _ loudly _ , he drools, his mouth hangs open.  He still watches him.  He sleeps heavy, doesn’t flinch when Saeran moves, and lays him down on the couch, doesn’t twitch when he covers him with a blanket. His eyelids don’t even flutter when Saeran runs his thumb along Zen’s lower lip.

He bends down, he could probably kiss him and he wouldn’t wake up.  He won’t he thinks, but he could.  Zen grabs his arm when he starts to stand, tugs him back down slightly, he’s not awake at all but he mumbles something, runs a clumsy hand through Saeran’s hair and presses a wet sleepy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Saeran freezes, pulls the blanket over Zen’s stupid head and sprints to his own room.

Saeyoung is still heavy, he notes.  He rolls over with a bit of effort, runs his fingers through his brother’s hair and watches him sleep.  Saeyoung used to sleep like this when they were children. It had been calming for Saeran but now he doubted this was for him.  Now he thinks his brother maybe fell asleep like this to sooth himself.

“You’re heavy,” he grunts when he can’t lay there any longer.

Zen is still on the couch, managing to look even less appealing and he decides to snap a picture, shakes his head that his brother does too.  Teasing one another is easy, and his brother decides to even things out, calls Zen his boyfriend and Saeran freezes when the lump on the couch stirs.

They say good bye, it’s difficult for Saeran to turn Zen down when he offers breakfast.  Because he’s hungry, he tells himself, and they need groceries, he continues.  Not because he wants to spend more time with Zen.  At least not before he has a plan to get in his pants.

Then Saeyoung drops a bomb.  A fucking fake date like they’re in some kind of shitty fan fiction.  Only his idiot brother would come up with something like that and only Yoosung Kim would think it was a good idea.  

He has access to the chatroom.  Real actual interactive access.  He can  _ talk _ to the RFA.  He forgets to change his username to something less ominous.

**[KitKat]:** Hey stranger   
**[Unknown]:** Aren’t you at work?   
**[KitKat]** : Boss lady made me take a break after the breakfast rush, did you have a nice ride?   
**[Unknown]:** whatever   
**[KitKat]** : Cute.

He spends the day in and out of the messenger.  His brother throws himself into whatever work he’d been supposed to do for Jumin the night before. He’s coming out to find something to eat when he hears an unfamiliar notification on the app.

_ [1 unread Text Message] _

**[Zen]:** So Seven finally let you in   
**[Unknown]** : I guess   
**[Zen]:** Little surprised you didn’t just let yourself in   
**[Unknown]** : What?   
**[Zen]:** Sorry was that rude, I didn’t mean it.  Just you hacked in before right?   
**[Unknown]:** Yeah I guess.  I don’t really do that anymore.   
**[Zen]:** Why, you’re good at it right?  You’re probably better than Seven, you beat his you know, whatever nerd stuff.   
**[Unknown]:** His what?     
**[Zen]:** I don’t know, you hacked him right?  I didn’t think anyone could.  Why wouldn’t you keep doing it   
**[Unknown]:** I don’t know Hyun, why don’t you do motorcycle gang stuff anymore   
**[Zen]:** Heh, ok sorry point taken   
**[Unknown]:** Is Yoosung in love with my brother?

It’s stupid, he shouldn’t say shit like that but Zen and Yoosung seem close, if anyone in the RFA had any insight into how he felt it would be Zen.

**[Zen]:** Oh, you noticed that   
**[Unknown]** : …   
**[Zen]:** I don’t think Yoosung realizes it but I always thought that too.

It’s a few days before their fake date, and Saeran spends a lot of time on the messenger.  Kit, Yoosung, Zen, they all start texting him.  Jumin checks in on him.  Jaehee does too.  He finds a way to turn each string of text into the conversation he really wants to have.

Does Yoosung Kim have feelings for his brother.

Everyone agrees.

**[Unknown]:** Are Yoosung and Saeyoung very close?  Or was that an act?   
**[Jumin]** : They’ve always been quite taken with one another.  Your brother is very protective of him, I suppose maybe he had thought to make him a substitute for you but I’m beginning to think that may have been a misunderstanding.   
**[Unknown]:** what makes you think that?   
**[Jumin]:** Seven is much softer with his care of you.  He’s like a little boy pulling pigtails with Yoosung.  They’re well matched I think.

Everyone has their own opinions.

**[Jaehee]** : Yoosung has been oddly focused on that girl have you met her?   
**[Unknown]:** Why would you ask me that?   
**[Jaehee]:** I was curious.  He spends a lot of time with your brother.  I thought perhaps Mina may have come to the bunker with him   
**[Unknown]** : He doesn’t really talk about her   
**[Jaehee]:** He talks to me quite a lot of her.  I suppose I’ve seen more of her than the rest of you.  It’s funny he’s only ever spoke like this of your brother.   
**[Unknown]:** He talks about her the same as Saeyoung?   
**[Jaehee]** : No, that was a poor way to put it.  He sounds more natural when he speaks of your brother.  I’m certainly surprised that he’s going to date Mina.  He hadn’t seemed interested before.    
**[Unknown]** : Before?   
**[Jaehee** ]: He took her to the last party but he seemed very uncomfortable, not like when he came to the parties with your brother.

Their opinions are all very much the same.

**[KitKat]:** So I’m going to come by Monday   
**[Unknown]:** Can you come by later this time?   
**[KitKat]:** Yeah, do you have plans?   
**[Unknown]:** Yoosung and Saeyoung have plans so it would just be us, I can cook something    
**[KitKat]:** That’s fine, Jaehee doesn’t need me that evening, she’s training the new guy   
**[KitKat]:** Zen asked if he could come with some time, is that alright with you?   
**[Unknown]:** ok, yeah I guess   
**[KitKat]:** Are you sure?  I can say no, he doesn’t have to know you said no   
**[Unknown]** : No he can come   
**[KitKat]** : Are you blushing?   
**[Unknown]:** fuck off   
**[KitKat]:** What are Strawberry and Cream doing Monday that leaves you all alone   
**[Unknown]:** What?   
**[KitKat]:** Oh, uh that’s what Jaehee and I call them.   
**[Unknown]:** Why?   
**[KitKat]:** It’s stupid, what are they doing   
**[Unknown]:** ...I don’t know Saeyoung is teaching him how to date   
**[KitKat]:** Your brother is usually better at lying, when do you think they’ll admit they’re together.

God every single one of them thought basically the same thing.

Saeran can tell by the look on Yoosung’s face and the flowers in his hand that somewhere inside his head he knows this is real.  The way his purple eyes go big and sparkle when his stupid brother makes his stupid entrance.  He watches Yoosung chew his lip, he doesn’t want to ask him to change but he does.

Saeran sighs.  He teases Yoosung, he watches the two idiots leave and curses his brother for making jokes about Zen.  At least Saeran wasn’t going to trick people into kissing him.  

He’s nervous when they’re gone. Kit and Zen show up shortly after.  Kit has the code to the garage she opens the door and waits a few moments so that Zen can pull in.  They must have coordinated so that he wouldn’t have to park his bike on the street.

They eat first.  Zen is in awe that he’s cooked.  He realizes suddenly that Saeran had cooked the Bibimbap the last time.  He makes exaggerated sounds while he chews and Kit rolls her eyes.  Saeran does his best not to blush. 

Zen sings.  No matter what song Kit plays, no matter what song Saeran plays, from stupid children’s songs to pop songs.  Zen sings, and he picks at the guitar in the middle of the room and he talks Saeran into singing along and Saeran can’t help but blush now.  Then Kit leaves.

“Aren’t you going to go?”

“I can if you’re uncomfortable.” Zen shrugs.  Helping him put his instruments away.

“You’re  _ not _ uncomfortable?” Saeran can feel the way Zen’s plush lips had pressed the corner of his mouth every time he looks him in the eye.

Zen shrugs. “Why would I be?”

Saeran shrugs back.

It’s the same easy kind of conversation as the last time.  They joke, they tease each other a little.  They watch another show that they have little trouble agreeing on and soon Saeran feels easy.  Quiet.  He feels a sort of calm he only feels around Zen.

“You’re staring at me,” Zen chuckles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.  People stare,” Zen says, but he looks a little uncomfortable. 

“I don’t have to stare,” Saeran says, “didn’t mean to.”

“It’s ok when you do,” Zen shrugs, and Saeran knows he means  _ when people I know do _ , not Saeran specifically but he still feels that warm feeling in his chest.

It’s quiet for a while, they laugh at the show, make little comments and Saeran isn’t really expecting it when Zen speaks again. “You ever think about getting a girlfriend?”

“Not really,” Saeran shrugs.

“Hmm, why?”

“Don’t like girls,” he laughs,

“Oh, well you know what I mean,”  Zen laughs nervously.  “I keep thinking about it, I can’t really because of work but you’re a good looking guy.”

“Why can’t you?” Saeran asks, trying to turn things away from himself.

“Oh well  _ time _ I guess,” he shrugs. “I mean I might lose fans if I had a girlfriend but it’s more the time thing.”

“So just find a friend to fuck until you have time for feelings,” Saeran shrugs.  It’s not like it’s a difficult.

“Is it really that easy?” Zen sighs. 

“Why not?” Saeran asks, curious now.  He turns to look the taller man in the eyes.

“What if I get attached and they don’t, what if they get attached and I don’t?  I’d feel guilty.”

“You ever kiss a guy?” Saeran asks.  

“What?”

“I mean aside from the other night when you kissed me in your sleep,” Saeran smirks.  Might as well get this out.  Rip the bandaid off.

“I did?” Zen blushes he stares off far away for a moment. “Did I, I’m sorry did I make you uncomfortable.”

Saeran laughs, it’s not mean. “It’s fine.  You ever think about guys like that?”

“You ever think about girls like that?” Zen shoots back.

He smirks. “Yeah, sometimes but I only like to think about them.  I’d rather suck dick.”

Zen blushes, his eyes are wide and Saeran knows he has him.

“You know,” Saeran drawls. “If you just want some kind of touch-”

“What, I mean, Saeran that’s-”

“Gay?” Saeran laughs. “Hey you’re not gay.  Kissing is kissing.  You won’t get attached if it’s a dude right?”

Zen laughs, he turns away for a moment, turns the volume on the TV up.

Saeran doesn’t mind.  He saw the way Zen’s hips had shifted, the way his eyes had dropped to his lips.  The actor was so deep in the closet he’d found Narnia but he could see a way out.  Saeran wasn’t looking for anything more than a pretty body to rub up against anyway.  He’ll give him time to think about it.  Won’t bring it up again.  He tried right, no harm in that.

“I guess I should keep my options open.” Zen’s voice is shakey when he speaks but the hand on Saeran’s thigh is firm.

“It’s a good strategy,” Saeran nods, he shuffles closer, presses his palms to Zen’s thighs and drags them along the denim of his jeans.

“Kissing is kissing right,” Zen mumbles, and Saeran shivers when long fingers card through his hair.

“It’s just killing time,” he mumbles pressing his lips to Zen’s.

His tongue darts out to tease at Zen’s teeth, and he’s surprisingly eager to let them part, to deepen the kiss.  Zen grabs Saeran by his thighs and pulls him into his lap and Saeran growls as he presses the other man back against the couch.  “You’re eyes are really pretty,” Zen mumbles.

“That’s gay,” Saeran chuckles, pressing bites along his collarbone.

Zen arches his back, whimpers and Saeran presses into his hips as they roll upwards seeking friction. “We’re just, hng, it’s just kissing right.”

“Whatever you want,” Saeran mumbles slotting their lips together again.

He’s not sure how long they do this.  How long they lick and suck at lips and tongues, how long he holds the taller man beneath him, rolling their hips together.  Lost in a chorus of sighs and moans before the kitchen light flicks on. And Saeran pops up like he’s been caught.

His brother looks  _ broken _ .  He looks ruined and all Saeran can do is try to will Zen to read his mind, to stay the fuck down.  But Saeyoung is apologising and no matter how tight Saeran squeezes his thighs around Zen’s hips the taller man still pulls himself out from under him.  Sits up and has the good sense to look sheepish with his hickies and his kiss bitten lips.

Saeyoung and Zen practically run away and Saeran is left standing in the living room half hard and worried.

He gives his brother the night.  He makes french toast, walks to the corner store and buys a can of whipped cream and a couple bags of Candies just because he knows what Saeyoung is like.  He bangs on his door and when there’s no answer he picks the lock.  Saeyoung is laying face down, his hair is a mess and when Saeran forces him to roll over he can see the makeup from the night before smeared on his face.

“You’re a fucking mess, get up and wash I made breakfast.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want any,” Saeyoung mumbles.

“I made it just for you, so don’t give me that shit.  Get the fuck up and eat and tell me what the fuck happened last night.” It’s harsh but his tone is kind and he thinks maybe he’s getting the hang of this big brother shit.

“What the fuck happened to  _ you _ last night,” Saeyoung shoots back.

Saeran laughs. “I told you I was gonna fuck the actor.”

Saeyoung groans but he pushes himself out of bed and stumbles towards the bathroom.

There are bags under his eyes, he looks like he hasn’t slept, like he’s been crying and Saeran shoves the french toast, and all the fixings at him.  He watches Saeyoung’s face perk a little.

“Where’d you get all this?”

“Left the house like a grown up,” Saeran says with a smirk.

“You did that for me?”

He nods. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t”

“Want me to tell you about dry humping your friend on the couch in the living room?” Saeran grins.

“Shit, no, uh no thanks.  Fine,” Saeyoung groans, shoves too much food in his mouth and makes him watch while he chews slow and methodical.

“No wonder Vanderwood was always threatening to tase you.”

Saeyoung smirks. It doesn’t last. “We kissed,” He groans, “Kind of  _ really _ kissed I think.  It was too nice it was a stupid idea, I don’t think we can be friends like we were, I think we ruined it, I think I fucked everything up.”

Saeran sighs. “You should call him first.  Maybe he wanted to kiss you like that.”

“I climbed into his lap in my car,” Saeyoung groans.

“He didn’t push you off,” Saeran counters.

“Because he didn’t know it was real.” Saeyoung whines.

“You’re both fucking idiots,” Saeran groans.


	9. Chapter 9

He’s vaguely aware of his bedroom door opening.  Vaguely aware that he might have laid face down in his pillow since he’d gotten off.  Intimately aware that he hadn’t bothered to even clean himself off afterwards as Saeran shoves him over and he cringes.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Saeran snorts narrowing his eyes on him. “Get up and wash.”

Seven can smell something from the other room, before his brother declares that he’s made breakfast.  His stomach growls.  Saeyoung Choi doesn’t deserve his brother’s pity breakfast. “I’m fine, I don’t want any.”

Saeran shifts his weight and cocks his head.  Seven knows he’s in for it when his brother’s hands hit his hips and his eyes narrow on him.  He almost cowers, it’s so similar to their mother. “I made it just for you, so don’t give me that shit,” he growls but there’s a layer of concern in his voice that makes Seven feel guilty, Saeran was not their Mom.  “Get the fuck up, get something to eat, and tell me what the fuck happened last night.”

“What the fuck happened to  _ you _ ,” Seven shoots back bitterly.  The memory of a blushing and  _ obviously _ aroused Zen looking apologetic before he sprinted to the garage plays in technicolor through his mind.

Saeran chuckles, a faint blush to his cheeks and his voice is too damn chipper when he announces, “Told you I was gonna fuck the actor.”

Good for him, Seven thinks, if one of the Choi twins was going to get a happy ending Saeran was the one who deserved it.  He shoves himself out of bed with great mental effort, his limbs are stiff from the tense ball he’d been in when he cried himself to sleep. God he was an idiot.

An idiot that looked like shit.

Mascara and eyeliner had run down his face and smeared across his cheeks.  His eyes were red and swollen from crying, irritated from the contacts he hadn’t bothered to remove.  He pops them out, flicking the disposable lenses into the little trash can.  Pushes his soiled underwear off and flings it somewhere in the direction of the hamper and steps into the shower.  He bares the brunt of the cold water letting it run down his face, waking him up properly, punishing him a little, and soothing his eyes before it starts to warm up.

The warm water is soothing too.  Easing the tight feeling in his muscles, the steam soothing the burning in his sinuses.  Even the sting of it being just a bit  _ too _ hot feels  _ good _ .  It feels so nice he wants to stay here all day but Seven doesn’t deserve that, not after what he did last night.  Maybe he could forgive himself for getting carried away with that kiss if he hadn’t came home a jerked off to his best friend.

It’s hard not to cheer up a little when he sees what his brother had done.  Saeran who hassles him about his diet had laid out french toast, and whipped cream and, “Where’d this come from?” He eyes the dishes of candies on the table.

Saeran smirks at him and folds his arms across his chest. “Left the house like a grown up.”

Something loosens in his chest at that.  His brother still had trouble making eye contact and speaking to  _ anyone _ but he still left the bunker  _ alone _ and walked to the corner store.  Made a purchase, had to interact with strangers, and he did it to  _ cheer him up _ .  That was, it was more than progress.  

He’d known Saeran was trying but it seemed like his brother still struggled to trust him, still struggled to care about anything let alone  _ him _ , and he’d done  _ this _ , he wants to cry.

In a good way this time.

“You did that?  For  _ me _ ?” Seven tries not to sound choked up.  He’s already struggling, already feeling too many things at once, he doesn’t need to overwhelm Saeran.

They can’t both break down at the same time.  Who would even help them?  Not Yoosung after everything he’d done.  Would anyone even notice if the twins disappeared now that he’d alienated Yoosung.  

Maybe Zen would miss his brother.

Saeran nods, a satisfied look on his face as he eats his french toast, with whipped cream and fruit, Seven notices.

He heaps whipped cream on top of the thick slices of custardy fried bread and stops looking at the candy.  Saeran is smiling softly at his own plate and Seven wonders exactly what happens inside his head.  What he’s really thinking beyond the sarcasm and insults because these are his  _ favorites _ and he hadn’t thought Saeran would know that.  He wouldn’t have considered that his brother paid enough attention to his likes and dislikes to know more about him than Honey Buddah Chips and PhD Pepper.

“You want to talk about it?” Saeran asks when he’s halfway into shoveling his first bite in his mouth.

Seven shakes his head.

“You want to hear how I dry humped your friend on the couch?” He smirks over a glass of juice.

“God, No?  No thanks,” Seven groans and then instead of cutting the piece of toast smaller he uses it to scoop up as much toppings as possible and shoves them in his mouth.  He chews slowly, mouth open, holding eye contact with his brother as he breathes loudly through his nose.

“No wonder Vanderwood always wanted to tase you,” Saeran groans looking away.

Seven smirks, this felt better more comfortable.  His brother threatening him indirectly while they teased one another felt way better than his brother making him a pity breakfast and asking him to talk about his feelings.

Though, he supposed Saeran went to so many therapies, talked to so many people, maybe he knew a thing or two about that.

Seven takes a deep breath when he’s swallowed the too big mouthful.  He might as well tell him what happened.  Explain how he fucked up the only friend he had that really listened to him when he talked.

*

That was hot.  Yoosung stands on the curb and watches the red car speed off.  His fingers brush his lips and his pants feel tight and Yoosung can’t even lie to himself that he’s not going to think about that when he jerks off later.  His heart is pounding and he he can’t help standing here just a little longer in case Seven turns around and drives back past his building.  

He wants to be here so that he knows it’s ok to come back.  He wants him to come back, because they should probably talk about that.

They should definitely talk about that.  Should definitely talk about how Yoosung has a big crush on Seven.  Probably about how he’s going to have to cancel his date because there’s no way he can take Mina out after how much he enjoyed that. God he was going to have to cancel his date.

Yoosung turns slowly, he drags his feet as he makes his way back inside.  Maybe he should call Seven.  Give him time to get home and then call him and confess that this backfired.  Yoosung had never admitted out loud that he liked boys before but he’d come to terms with it.  If there was anyone he could come out to without worrying it was Seven.

Still, saying it outloud was a big thing.  Saying it out loud in the form of  _ I think I really like you _ to his best friend was-  He should maybe think about it.  Maybe sleep on it or give it a day.  Maybe do something about this hardon because  _ god _ .  He smiles softly to himself as he unlocks his door.  He  _ kissed _ someone, he  _ made out _ with someone. Even if that someone was Seven and it maybe wasn’t real, he’s pretty sure it was, it was still a thing he did, a thing he  _ finally _ did.  

Maybe they would just pretend it wasn’t real but it  _ felt _ like more than practice.  Yoosung is more sure than ever that maybe Seven likes him too.  Maybe that’s all it took, this fake date and they both suddenly realize they have feelings.  Yoosung is a romantic, and he knows it but he likes the idea that one day they could sit in front of their grandkids and tell them how they fell in love during a fake date.

Yoosung was getting ahead of himself.

He almost doesn’t want to shower when he gets inside, kind of wants to set himself in front of his computer with some cold pizza and that beer Zen had left in his fridge over a month ago.  Unless it had gone bad,  _ does beer go bad _ , he wonders.  He does sit for a moment.  Sets the last slice on a napkin next to the beer he still hasn’t decided to drink and slips his jeans off.

Seven wasn’t coming back, no one else was here, does anyone even wear pants when they’re all alone?  Yoosung doesn’t think so.

He palms himself with one hand, shoving cold pizza in his mouth with the other while he waits on LOLOL to load.  There’s a pleasant kind of warmth to keeping himself half hard while he waits.  Something a little nice about touching himself while he remembers the way Seven’s hand had felt in his hair, the way it felt to have another body to press against.  He thinks about the way Seven’s tongue had felt in his mouth while he tries to decide what he should do with the rest of his evening.

Yoosung stops, he catches his reflection in the little star shaped Mirror propped against the wall, a sprinkle of light flashing across his cheek and chin from Seven’s make up.  Yoosung stops what he’s doing to lean closer and watch the glitter catch the light.  Something soft and sentimental wants to leave it, something else darker and smug likes to think of it like a neon sign that he’s finally been kissed, finally not a little boy pretending to be an adult.

He has to take a shower.  

The shower takes care of a lot of things.  Firstly he takes care of his persistent hardon.  He considers very briefly that maybe he shouldn’t wank to his best friend but optimism wins out as he considers that it’s probably ok to wank to your boyfriend,  _ right _ ? Secondly he definitely can not go on this date with Mina.

Because he wants to go on more dates with Seven.  

Yoosung is halfway through deciding if he should put on clean boxers or just put the ones he was already wearing back on when his phone rings.  It’s kind of late, not so late that a call would be worrisome but late enough to be surprised that it’s Zen’s number on the screen.

“Hello, just a second,” Yoosung chirps pulling his old boxers on.  No need to add to the already too big dirty laundry pile.

“Yoosung?” Zen asks, confused.

“M’yeah?”

“Everything is ok?” Zen sounds almost embarrassed.

“Y-yeah?” He says with less confidence.  Seven had seemed  _ off _ when he left but how would Zen have seen, “Were you Saeran’s date?”

Zen coughs, “No?  No, what?” he sputters on the other line. “Who said that?”

“Seven was teasing his brother,” Yoosung says flopping down in his creaky computer chair.  “I didn’t mean anything,” he chuckles.

“I’m not gay, you know?” Zen says and it almost sounds like he’s really asking.

Yoosung hesitates, “I uh, I might be.”

“Be what?  What happened tonight Seven seemed upset when he got home.”  Zen sounds almost grateful to get back to the topic at hand.

Yoosung inhales.  He’s going to do this, he’s going to come out to Zen, because the timing seems kind of fated and Zen seemed kind of wound up.  Yoosung might be gullible but Zen always took jokes to heart. “I might be, you know, gay?” He holds his breath.

“Huh?”

“A little,” Yoosung adds, “I mean I still like girls but-”

“Yoosung what happened?” Zen asks, his voice taking on a serious tone.  

“Well,” Yoosung explains about Seven taking care of him while he was drunk, about how worried he’s been about his date with Mina, about how Seven had offered to take him on a practice date.

“He was fucking with you Yoosung.” Zen snorts. “Probably thought it was funny to make you think you were gay.”  There’s something hidden under Zen’s words but Yoosung finds he’s more mad about the insinuation than he is curious.

“He wasn’t,” Yoosung snaps. “You said he was upset?  I think-Maybe he doesn’t like me?”

“What?” Zen snorts.

“Maybe, maybe he could t-tell,” he can feel it, too many feelings at once, “M-maybe he could tell I, that I, maybe he knew I maybe like him,” Yoosung trails off until he’s mumbling, and tears are threatening. “Maybe he got weird because I-I  _ wanted _ to kiss him.”

“ _ You _ and  _ Seven _ kissed too?” Zen breathes.

“Too?” Yoosung sniffles.

Zen squeaks. “You know, just,” he sighs, “first Kit and Jaehee, now you and Seven.”

“N-no,” Yoosung whines.  “He got weird, and he left and now you’re w-worried, so it’s not like Kit and Jaehee, maybe I m-messed up.”

Zen laughs softly. “I don’t think so Yoosung.  I think, maybe,” he pauses.  “You should probably call him I think he’s worried about you maybe.  That makes sense.” Zen seems to be talking to himself. “I’m worried about the fact that  _ you kissed Seven _ so Seven probably, yeah.”

Yoosung sniffs. “What?”

“Call him in the morning and tell him what you told me Yoosung.” Zen says with a chuckle.

*

“He’s in the office, Yoosung,” Seven can hear his brother standing outside his computer room.  He can’t hear what’s on the other end of the phone, he had a program for that but he doesn’t want to hear Yoosung’s voice. 

Thankfully when he had shown up in Jumin’s doorway at dawn begging for something to sink his filthy hacker fingers into the CEO had obliged without question.  It wasn’t a big job by far.  An investment opportunity that Jumin thought seemed to good to be true.  It might be a few days work, end of the week at worst and just enough to keep him isolated in his glass box of emotion while he tried to forget about how he fucked everything up.

Just enough time for Yoosung to not want to talk about it.

Just enough time to forget the way his best friend had tasted, to forget how Yoosung’s lips had felt against his.

_ God _ , he shakes his head, lets his nails dig into the meat of his palm,  _ that’s enough of that _ .

There’s a short knock on the sliding door before Saeran steps into the room.  

“That was-”

“Yoosung I know, he’s gonna call a hundred more times,” Seven groans.

“I’m going to fucking tell you every time he does, dickhead,” Saeran snaps.

“I’m busy,” Seven sighs.

“I’ll write it down and tape it to the fucking glass then,” Saeran shrugs and Seven is pretty sure if you could slam his sliding door Saeran would have.

*

He has to cancel, and he has to talk to Seven.  

Yoosung hangs up the up the phone, his fourth attempt to call his best friend didn’t just get ignored, the phone was off and the voice mailbox was full.  He’d called Saeran but he was just told that Seven was working and he didn’t know when he’d be finished.  This was not going the way he thought.

Not just that but he knew he had study group and they were going to ask him about the girl from the week before.  Yoosung is a terrible liar.  Not to mention he would probably run into Mina on campus, she’d been making a point of finding him.

Yoosung stands and starts to make his way to the door for his stop and gives up.  He slumps into the closest seat. He’d been doing well, his morning class was an elective, he can borrow notes from someone claim he wasn’t feeling well.  He can’t focus on classes today anyway.  

He sits on the bus for a few more stops before he gets off and makes his way to Jaehee’s cafe.  Relieved when the only person behind the counter is Kit.

“Don’t you have a class today,” she smirks already pouring him a coffee.

He shrugs.

“You hung out with Seven last night right?  Did something happen?”

He shrugs again.

Kit smiles and disappears with his coffee.  She comes back with a small blue box and slides it across the counter towards him. Shaking her head when he reaches for his wallet. “No no, I’ll charge it to Jumin’s RFA account, they’re just day olds.”

“Thanks, Kit,” he smiles.

“Don’t worry about it, but quick get out of here before Jaehee comes out of the dungeon and sees you skipping classes.”

He nods and hurries out the door.

There’s not much to do all day but he manages to throw himself into LOLOL and forget a little.  He still calls Seven at every opportunity.  Someone in his group wants to break to smoke or pee or eat, Yoosung calls until they come back.  He alternates between the twins but Saeran tells him the same thing every time.   _ Saeyoung _ is working, he doesn’t know when he’ll be done.

Still he calls every time he goes to pee, or eat or stretch.  Every time the game play slows, Saeran calls a Choi.

He doesn’t get an opportunity to call Mina because she calls him, just after noon.  He considers for a moment not answering but he already feels guilty.

“H-hey.”

“Are you sick?”

“Um,” Yoosung takes a breath, “I took a mental health day.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. “I was, uh I was looking for you because I had one of my tutoring clients cancel tomorrow and I thought maybe we could go out then if you’re not busy.”

“Oh,” Yoosung says, tries to chirp like everything is fine.  It’s not though and he’s backed into a corner.  His heart starts to pound and his mouth feels dry. “Uh-about that.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, “I knew it, you were just-” there’s a kind of noise, “I thought you were better than that Yoosung.”

“I’m not, I just,” he sighs, “please don’t hang up,  _ please _ .”

The line is quiet for a moment and he’s pretty sure she did until, “What.”

“I, I really honestly  _ did _ ask you out.  Seriously.” He says trying his best to sound sincere because he’s not really sure that’s true.

“So what happened?” She asks, each word clipped short.

“It’s uh, it’s complicated, I’m really sorry. Can I,” he hesitates, “can I please buy you dinner tomorrow to make up for it. I’ll explain everything then ok?”

She sighs. “Yoosung you don’t have to do that, you don’t want to go out with me anymore it’s fine.”

“N-no,” Yoosung almost shouts, “it’s not  _ fine _ , I feel bad.”

“So do I,” she says sharply.

“ _ Exactly _ ,” Yoosung whines, “I just, it’s really complicated and I feel like I owe you an explanation, face to face.”

“That’s  _ nice _ , but.”

“I’m gay,” he says suddenly.  

“ _ What _ ?”

He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t planned to but he needed her to understand. “I mean, not gay-gay, but I’m bi-gay.”

“Bi-Gay,” she says incredulously.

“Will you please just have dinner with me tomorrow so I can explain?” He sighs, face red, one hand covering his eyes even though she’s on the phone.

“I, yeah, sure Yoosung.” She sighs, “late afternoon around 4 maybe?”

“That sounds fine I’ll text you the address.”

*

It’s close to midnight when Seven finally pushes away from his computer screens.  The little glass room he used as an office had been getting darker all day and he knew Saeran had made good on his threat to take a message and tape it to the glass.  He doesn’t really expect the brightly coloured squares in the middle that spell out  _ Dick _ , but at least he’s expressing his frustration in a non-violent way.

Saeran is sitting on the couch where he can see his brother push the door open.

“Are these really all messages from Yoosung?” Seven asks quietly, stretching.

“Call your fucking boyfriend,” Saeran yawns.

“He’s not,” Seven freezes.  “Saeran we talked about this.  Rhee says you’re supposed to try to recognize when your humor is mean spirited.”

“Am I hurting your widdle feelings?” Saeran teases.

Seven sighs. “You’re being antagonistic. Yeah it hurts my fucking feelings.”  He runs a hand through his hair and lets himself fall onto the couch across from his brother. “Shit Saeran, I fucked up, you don’t need to rub it in alright?”

Saeran rolls his eyes and pushes himself up. “You didn’t fuck up,” he shrugs. “Blondie wouldn’t be calling like a debt collector if he was pissed off at you.”

“You don’t know Yoosung,” Seven snorts.  When he turns Saeran is walking towards him with one eyebrow raised and a look on his face like Seven might be the dumbest person he’s ever seen.

“ _ Saeyoung _ ,” he says seriously, shoving a plate of food at him, “do you know how long I watched you assholes?  I probably know that blond kid better than you.”

“Saeran,” Seven warns.

“No fuck that pity tone in your voice Saeyoung, you’re being a fucking idiot.  That boy is in love with you too, just fucking call him, and fuck him so we don’t have to watch this pitiful fucking soap opera anymore.  Jesus Christ.”

Seven sets the plate on the banged up coffee table and takes a breath before he tackles his brother. He wraps his arms around Saeran and drags him back onto the couch as he struggles and swears. Wraps his legs around him too once they’ve fallen safely to the cushions. They’re both laughing when Saeran finally struggles free.

“God you’re a fucking idiot,” he groans.

“You like me,” Seven smiles. “You want me to be happy.”

“Fuck off.  Call your boyfriend, Saeyoung. Get laid and leave me the hell alone.” Saeran kicks the couch but Seven can see a small smile on his face before he stomps off to his room.

He sighs, flops back against the couch and stares at the ceiling.  Saeran probably means well but Yoosung  isn’t calling because he likes him too.  Yoosung is calling because Seven got weird and he’s worried and a good person.  Yoosung isn’t calling because he’s in love.  Seven wasn’t that lucky.

*

Yoosung frowns at the time on his phone, he contemplates giving up. It’s been almost 2 hours since his last call to Seven, his guild had decided to run a raid at the last minute just due to the numbers online and Yoosung played support, he couldn’t let them down.  Still, as late as it was he’s pretty sure Seven would still be up, even if he’s not working.

He sighs, sets the phone back beside his keyboard and runs his fingers through his hair.  When he looks up he’s confused.  He was in an inn, decided whether or not to log out, why was he dead?

_ [H4ck3rG0d7] Wants to [Resurrect] you _

Yoosung hesitates and accepts, then the small purple text pops up.

[H4ck3rG0d7]: You wanted to talk to me?  I’m taking a break I have a minute.   
[SupermanYoosung]: Can I call you?   
[H4ck3rG0d7]: No can do, no phones on the job too easy to track.

That sounded like a lie but Yoosung doesn’t really know enough about what Seven does to argue.

[SupermanYoosung]: I can call Saeran’s phone?  Or maybe I could come over?   
[SupermanYoosung]: I don’t want to do this in text   
[H4ck4rG0d7]: Sorry, Yoosung I messed up I’m sorry   
[SupermanYoosung]: What?  What do you mean.  Seven please call me?   
[H4ck3rG0d7]: Yoosung, listen to me, I shouldn’t have done that.  You’re allowed to be mad at me.  

Yoosung’s heart hit’s his stomach and he reaches for his phone, almost drops it. Seven is still typing, still posting whisper after whisper of purple tinted apologetic garbage.  He fumbles again trying to dial Seven’s number

“Yoosung I told you,” Seven starts.

“I liked it,” Yoosung shouts.

There’s no response.

“I liked kissing you,” he says again, not shouting anymore, but just as forceful.

“Yoosung, it’s fine,” Seven says finally. “You just liked kissing, not me.”

“I-if I didn’t like you why do I want to kiss you again?” Yoosung says again, practically yells.

“You don’t want to kiss me you just want to kiss someone Yoosung,” Seven says again.  It’s infuriating like he’s talking to a child.

“Don’t,” Yoosung says losing his nerve a little. “Don’t tell me what I want!”

“ _ Yoosung _ ,” Seven sounds tired, he sounds so tired, and  _ sad _ .  Yoosung can’t believe he didn’t notice how hurt Seven’s been. “You don’t want  _ me _ , Yoosung.”

Yoosung can not believe that he hadn’t noticed exactly how bad everything must have been for Seven.  Sure, he knew his friend had struggled and he wasn’t as chipper.  Wasn’t goofy 707.  Hadn’t pulled a prank.  Why had Yoosung not noticed how bad it had gotten.

“If I don’t want  _ you _ ,” he says and he covers his face with one hand.  He can’t believe he’s going to say this but Seven has that tone like Yoosung is a child and he has to prove a point. “I-if I don’t, if I just want to kiss someone,” he inhales again, can feel the blush in his cheeks hot under his hand, “then w-why did I think about kissing you when I t-touched myself.”

There’s the sharp sound of Seven breathing through clenched teeth. “Yoosung, you don’t-”

“You’re not  _ listening _ to me,” Yoosung yells. “I  _ want _ to kiss  _ you _ ,” he says, “I w-want to  _ touch  _ you.” He presses his palm to his thigh and the last part comes out a whisper. “I want  _ y-you _ to touch  _ me _ .”

“What?” Seven whispers.

“I want you to touch me, Seven,” he says firmly. “I want to go on real dates with you, and I want to m-makeout in your car, I want you to  _ touch _ me!”

“H-how,” Seven says.  His voice low and there’s a shuffling sound.

Yoosung freezes.  He’s not sure how, he hadn’t really gotten that far. “Like l-last night,” he tries. “I liked how you touched me last night.”

There’s a soft click like a door closing. “What did you like about last night?”

“Your hands in my hair,” Yoosung says, his voice low like he’s not the only person in his apartment. “I liked when you pulled my hair.”

“Mmm hmm, what else?” Seven asks.

“I liked when you kissed my throat,” Yoosung says with a little more confidence.

“I liked that too,” Seven says softly. 

“I liked the way your tongue moved in my mouth and when your hips pressed against mine and-”

“Y-Yoosung,” Seven whines. 

When did he start touching himself, when did he get hard, Yoosung squeezes his cock through his boxers and waits for Seven to say something.

“I want to touch you,” Seven says and there’s something like defeat in his voice.

“I-I’ll come over,” Yoosung says, he practically leaps out of his chair to look for pants.

“N-no, Yoosung you can’t.”

“I’m gonna,” Yoosung chirps pulling his jeans off the floor.

“No,” and there’s a soft chuckle that makes Yoosung’s whole chest warm, “it’s too late you have a class in the morning.”

“Oh,” he drops the pants and takes the few steps towards his bed.

“But if I was there,” Seven continues, “how would  _ you _ touch  _ me _ ?”

“M-me?” Yoosung stammers.  He kicks the pants off his ankles and flops down on his bed. “I guess I’d uh, I’d probably touch your b-butt again.”

Seven chuckles. “Wow, you were doing so good.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoosung says with a nervous laugh. “I haven’t done this before.”

“Do you want to stop?” Seven asks.

Yoosung presses his palm against his cock. “No.”

“Then how would you touch me?”

“I liked you on my lap,” Yoosung says confidently. “I liked pulling you against me, I’d, I guess I’d probably do that.” He inhales, voice wavering slightly. “I’d pull you into my lap,” he repeats, “and grab your butt and kiss your neck.”

“You can do anything Yoosung, you just want to hold my butt and kiss?” Seven chuckles.

“What would you do then?” Yoosung groans.

“Oh me?” Seven chirps. “Well I’d climb back into your lap, and I’d run my hands under your shirt.”

Yoosung slips his hand under his shirt. He lets his hand slide up his stomach and trail along his chest.

“I’d press myself against you, lick along your neck and-”

“Seven,” Yoosung pants, “a-am I allowed to touch myself?”

“ _ Cute _ ,” Seven coos.

“S-shut up.”

“You’re covering your face aren’t you,” Seven chuckles.

He groans, frustrated. “Are  _ you _ touching yourself?” He tries to turn it around.

Seven makes a choked noise and his tone changes, nervous. “I uh, I thought that’s what we were doing,” he says quietly.

“I-no, yeah,” Yoosung stammers, “Yeah  _ that’s _ what we’re doing I was just making sure.”

“What should I do,” Seven says softly.  When Yoosung struggles to find an answer he whispers, “what are you doing.”

“I-I’m grabbing myself through my boxers,” he says. “I’m uh, I’m really hard.”

“M’hard too,” Seven says. “Do you want to do more?”

“Can I?” Yoosung whimpers.

“Sure,” Seven says, his voice low, “tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m uh,” Yoosung reaches for the lotion beside his bed, “I’m,” he shoves his boxers down his hips with the other. “I’m gonna j-jerk off.”

“Wow, Yoosung, you really know how to build a visual,” Seven laughs, there’s a breathy quality to it.

“Shutup.” Yoosung whines.

“How does it feel,” Seven prompts, and his voice catches.

“S’good,” Yoosung says, he puts his phone on speaker and tosses it on the bed next to him.

“How g-good,” Seven asks.

Yoosung lays back and throws his arm on his eyes. “I-I’m going slow,” he says, “i-it’s tight and w-wet-”

“Wet?” Seven says

“L-lotion,” Yoosung forces himself to say, cheeks burning.

“Oh Yoosungie, still can’t buy lube?”

“G-god, you’re the w-worst,” Yoosung whines.

“You want to touch me,” Seven teases.

Yoosung whimpers, he works himself slowly, twisting his wrist at the tip, squeezing tighter at the base.  He listens to Seven panting on the other side of phone, his voice hitches and he whines a little.

“Are you still there Seven?”

“Mhngg, you ok?”

“M’close,” Yoosung admits.

“C-can you call me Saeyoung?”

“I think so,” Yoosung swallows, he’s almost positive that’s Seven’s real name, it’s what Saeran always calls him. “I’m close S-Saeyoung.”

“G-god,” Seven groans. “Go faster,” he says.

Yoosung pumps himself faster, he reaches between his thighs and squeezes his balls.  He lets out his breath in little whines and pants as his hips buck involuntarily into his fist.  He listens to Seven’s pants and moans turn into whimpers of his name.

“S-Saeyoung,” he begs, “I’m-I’m gonna-”

“God Yoosung,” Seven groans.

Seven grunts and Yoosung can feel the coiling heat in his belly tighten and then very suddenly he’s cuming into his hand, whimpering his bestfriends name and listening to his name spill though the phone alongside a litany of curses and and whimpers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one...possibly two chapters left.


	10. Chapter 10

He lets himself have this.  Lets himself sit on the edge of his bed with a stupid smile on his face because he just had phone sex with Yoosung Kim.  Yoosung wanted to touch him, Yoosung wanted to kiss him, Yoosung wanted to go on dates  _ with him _ .    Maybe it’s stupid to sit on his bed with his dick in his hand smiling like an idiot, but he’d let himself over think it later.

He cleans himself up, takes another shower and he  _ should _ take a nap but he has too much nervous energy.  He doesn’t want to think about what it means right now, so he throws himself back into work.  The job had gone much faster than he expected, there’s only a few more hours worth of work to do.  Plenty to get him through and keep him from dwelling on Yoosung, from finding a problem.

Keep him from finding something to worry about.

He falls into bed around the time he knows Yoosung would be catching his bus to campus and for the first time in months He sends him a text and falls asleep without any trouble.

There are no texts from Yoosung when he wakes up.  He yawns, stretches and checks the time.  Seven knew every single member's schedule and he knows Yoosung’s last class of the day ended twenty minutes ago.  Yoosung never ignored a text, even in class but today there’s nothing.

_ Shit _ .

Yoosung changed his mind, he regrets it, he realized everything Seven had said was right and now he’s avoiding him.  

He tries to slow his thoughts, tries to quell the panic.  He squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself all the reason’s Yoosung might not respond.  Maybe he has no signal, maybe his battery died, or he’s left his phone somewhere.  Seven takes a deep breath.  He could have fallen asleep on the bus, or he could be trying to study something and turned his ringer off.  

He takes a moment to steady himself, runs his fingers through his bed head and goes into the main house to eat and think about what to do.  Should he go see Yoosung today or give him more time?  He wonders if he should wait for him to respond or if it would be strange to just be waiting at his apartment.  He considers he might be getting ahead of himself.

Yoosung had wanted to kiss, and fool around and go on dates but he hadn’t actually said he had feelings for Seven.  Perhaps Yoosung just wanted to fool around.  Seven doesn’t really want that but he considers, if it’s the best he can hope for,  _ maybe-” _

Zen is on the couch when he makes his way into the main house.  Saeran is sitting much too close to him and the actor looks conflicted.  Seven smirks when his brother rolls his eyes.

“I don’t care what you do,” Seven laughs, “just keep your pants on when I’m in the room.”

Zen blushes deeply and Saeran sneers. “How’s things with your boyfriend?” He teases.

Zen’s ears perk up, embarrassment forgotten. “Did you  _ talk _ to Yoosung?”

“Last night,” Seven shrugs, “why did  _ you _ talk to Yoosung?”

Zen is pretty when he blushes, Seven had always thought so and he can see his brother cast a short appreciative glance his way.  He tries not to notice Saeran’s hand on Zen’s thigh as he turns towards the kitchen. “Ok, he was kind of strange on the phone the other night, I told him he should talk to you.”

“Well we talked,” Seven shrugs, a smile spreading as he remembers exactly how they’d  _ talked _ .

“I’m glad you sorted that out,” Zen shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, trying not to let on as Saeran’s hand moves farther along his thigh.

Seven didn’t really need to look to know, he’s heard all manner of forced voices between interrogations and eavesdropping on phone calls. “He’s not answering his texts though.  I thought I might go over there later.”

“Give him time,” Zen chuckles, “He’s got his date today, god I can’t believe you made him think he was gay, that’s kind of out there, even for yo-oof.”

Seven turns on his heels and stares at Zen.  His brother is standing glaring at the tall confused man on the sofa. “He’s what?” Seven manages to eek out.

“Good fucking job Hyun,” Saeran growls.

“What? I was talking to him a half hour ago he said he was taking Mina to dinner?”

Seven grabs onto the counter.  Suddenly the leftovers he’d been digging through seem like the a terrible idea.  His stomach churns and he hates the look on Saeran’s  face.  Saeran who had some kind of fucked up something with Zen, looking at him like-

“Are you sure it’s a date?” Seven manages.

“Yeah,” Saeran says and Seven watches him lift his foot and gently kick Zen, “what did he say?”

“This is uh, really intense, you guys,” Zen whines, shifting in his seat.

“W-where did they go?” Seven asks, grabbing his keys out of the bowl on the counter.

“Saeyoung,” Saeran warns.

“I need to see,” Seven says.

“What is the problem?” Zen laughs.

When Saeran turns to chastise him Seven takes his opportunity and bolts for the garage before his brother can talk him out of it.

Yoosung just needed to get that out of his system,  needed some kind of bisexual release before he goes on to ignore his attraction to men like he always had.  He’d go on to date girls, marry one, have babies with her.  He’ll be very successful.  He doesn’t need Seven.

Still Yoosung wasn’t prone to lying, there could maybe be some kind of explanation and Seven figures he has all this training.  There’s no reason he can’t figure out where they’re going or why.  He pulls off and parks on a side street to collect himself, make a plan.  He tracks Yoosung’s phone to a restaurant just off campus.  It wasn’t incredibly fancy but it was more so than a place you go to lunch with friends.

He’s just going to go in, get a table where he can see them, and try to decide what they’re doing.  He’ll help Yoosung out, prove he’s not upset.  No hard feelings, he can’t lose his best friend to this.

He can see them as soon as he gets in the restaurant.  It’s early, there aren’t many diners and Yoosung is easy to pick out among the business suits.  Things look awkward but not as though they’re going poorly.  He watches them for twenty minutes, orders a drink and a dessert and manages to push the food around his plate, completely uninterested in eating.

Yoosung shakes his head and laughs, they’ve relaxed, their body language has loosened up and she keeps reaching out to touch him.  He watches desserts set in front of them, he watches her lean across the table and then Yoosung turns his head and she kisses his cheek with a smile.  Seven lets himself smile a soft a sad smile.  Still nervous after everything.  

He could make this date end perfectly for Yoosung.  He wouldn’t hold a grudge.  He’d help him get this girl regardless of his hurt feelings.  He’d be his best man at the wedding.  He’ll pretend last night never happened, nor the night before.

*

“Isn’t this a little fancy for an explanation Yoosung?” Mina frowns at him outside the restaurant.

He shrugs. “I feel really guilty?”

She shakes her head and follows him in.  There’s a text from Seven on his phone be her refuses to even look at.  He has to do this first, get through making it up to her, explaining himself.  Get through all the bad things he had to before he lets himself have something good.

They order coffees, and stare at their menus awkwardly for longer than really necessary, both avoiding small talk until the server comes back and they’ve given their orders.

“So,” Mina says, picking at her fingers.

“So,” Yoosung parrots, tracing the condensation on his water glass.

“You’re gay?” She prompts.

“I’m uh, Bi I guess,” he says quietly.

“Is that a new thing?”

Yoosung shrugs and sips at his coffee. “I-N-no, it’s not but I’ve never really said it  _ outloud  _ before.”

“But you’re what? Dating a man now?” She asks and her voice is a little louder than Yoosung would really like.

“N-no,” Yoosung says quietly, “m-maybe?  I’m not sure it just sort of happened we-we haven’t talked about it but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

She sighs, resigned, “So what happened?”

Yoosung takes a deep breath and starts to explain.  He starts with more than he really needs but he wants her to understand.  He explains how long he’d been in the closet, explains how he met Seven, explains in broad terms that day in the cafe months ago and how he’d thought Seven had died.  He explains Seven coming back, he explains his nerves, and the practice date.

“A what?” She snorts.  She’s not mad any longer, she’s leaning over her plate picking at her food while he talks more than he’s certain he’s done in a long long time.

“I uh, well he  _ offered _ and it seemed like a good idea,” Yoosung shrugs blushing.

“Wow you really like him, huh?”

He giggles and covers his face.

“I don’t think I can be angry about this.  I’m sorry I put you on the spot,” she shrugs as the server returns to clear their plates.

Yoosung shakes his head and they order dessert. “You didn’t put me on the spot, I shouldn’t have asked you out the way I did, I think I did it for the wrong reasons.”

She shrugs, “It’s ok, you didn’t do it on purpose.”

He shakes his head.

“Tell me about him, this Seven guy, what’s he like aside from the kind of guy who suggests dating lessons?”

“Oh,” Yoosung chirps, he relaxes a bit and smiles. “Seven is kind of funny?  He plays jokes on me a lot, and he’s really good with computers and videogames.” Mina smiles as he goes on to list his best friends virtues.  “He’s kinder than he thinks he is, and he can be very serious, no one really notices but I do.  I think he might be very sad?  His brother lives with him now and I didn’t know he had a brother, I can’t really tell if they get along or not but he’s sick I think?  That’s why they live together.”

Yoosung continues on as dessert is set in front of them and Mina smiles softly listening to him.  When they’ve almost finished and Yoosung’s cheeks are pink and he’s run out of things to say about Seven she leans across the table and brushes his hair out of his face.

“Seven is a very lucky man Yoosung,” she says softly and when he ducks his head she kisses his cheek and settles back into her seat.  The two of them blushing and finishing their meal in comfortable quiet until the ambient music of restaurant dies away.

It’s replaced with something familiar, and the two them frown at one another trying to figure out why they know this song.

“Is this,” Yoosung starts.

“The Little Mermaid?” She finishes.

The two of them laugh and look around trying to figure out who the song might be for, who exactly might need to  _ Kiss the Girl _ .  Maybe someone was getting engaged.  Mina has her phone out hopefully looking around when she freezes and taps on Yoosung’s arm.

“Your friend, he has red hair?”

Yoosung nods, and Mina points to a tuft on red hair over the back of a booth near them.

“Did you tell him you were taking me out?” She whispers.

“N-no,” Yoosung stammers.  He doesn’t have to ask how Seven knew where to find him, he knew the hacker had his ways.

“Does he think you’re on a date?” She giggles.

Yoosung doesn’t laugh.  Maybe a year ago he would have said she was crazy but this new Seven, this nervous, sad , worried man he was getting used to seeing more often? Maybe. After yesterday could he still think Yoosung didn’t have feelings for him.

Yoosung watches the red hair slink deeper into the booth and Mina puts her hand on his arm. “Go talk to him.”

Yoosung nods, he hands Mina the cash he’d brought with him to pay for their meal and accepts a hug from her before he walks slowly towards the hair in the booth.

“Are you spying on me,” he says, he hopes he sounds irritated rather than amused.

“I, Y-Yoosung?” Seven feigns surprise, “Wow, weird seeing you here, I eat here a lot.”

“No you don’t,” Yoosung scolds, “you’re following me.”

“D-did you kiss her,” Seven says softly.

Yoosung forces him to move over and slips into the booth next to him. “Why would I kiss Mina?”

“You took her on a date,” Seven points out.

“I took her to dinner,” Yoosung corrects.

“What’s the difference,” Seven snaps.

Yoosung chuckles, he pries Seven’s fingers out of the fist he’s made and twines his own between them, “The difference is I wanted to make up for canceling my date with her.”

“Why would you do that,” Seven says, still not looking at him.

Yoosung leans closer to him, he rests his chin on Seven’s shoulder and whispers, “I didn’t think my boyfriend would be ok with it.”

He can feel Seven’s whole body tense.  It’s not exactly the response he was hoping for.  He watches Mina walk past out of the corner of his eye and listens to Seven breathe.

“What’s he like?” Seven asks cautiously, “Your boyfriend?”

“He’s kind of an idiot,” Yoosung smiles. “He’s really impulsive, and he plays the  _ worst _ pranks.  He jumps to the worst conclusions and he’s always trying to get me to kiss other people.”

“He sounds like a jerk,” Seven mumbles.

“I guess but he’s also very kind.  He listens to me when no one else does, and he takes very good care of his brother, and his friends, and he works really hard.  It helps that he’s really handsome.”

“Doesn’t sound like anyone I know,” Seven says but there’s a little bit of lightness to his voice.

“He likes the ocean,” Yoosung continues, “and he never lets me win at video games because he always cheats.”

“I don’t  _ always _ cheat,” Seven counters, “and you  _ could _ cheat.”

“I don’t  _ want _ to,” Yoosung laughs as Seven turns to frown at him.  He reaches out and rests a hand on Seven’s cheek. “Why did you follow me?”

Seven sets his jaw, his cheeks blush as red as his hair and he frowns. “I don’t know.”

“Were you jealous?” Yoosung smirks.

Seven shakes his head.

“You can tell me if you were.”

“I wasn’t,” he shakes his head. “You didn’t answer my text, and Zen said you were on a date and I needed to see.”

“To see what?” Yoosung laughs, letting his hand fall.

He shrugs.

“Did you have that song play?”

“I saw her try to kiss you and you chickened out so I wanted to help.”

Yoosung laughs, it’s loud and rings off the wall like bells, a few heads turn to look at them and he covers his mouth. “You mean when she told me you were lucky and kissed my cheek?”

“I guess,” he mumbles.

“Can we go?” Yoosung asks after a moment a quiet.

Seven nods and they stand.  Seven grips his hand tightly and doesn’t let go until he’s opened the door to the silver two seater.

“Where are we going?” he asks, golden eyes shy for the first time Yoosung can ever remember.

“Can we go to your place?” Yoosung says softly.

Seven smiles. “Oh, good idea, Zen was there when I left, maybe we can have some fun with that.”

“Uh, what?”

“Oh no it’s better if you’re as surprised as I was,” Seven smirks as he pulls out of the parking lot and turns towards home.

“You don’t have to do that,” Yoosung says quietly.

“Hmm, Yoosungie, do what?”

Yoosung shrugs, watching him carefully. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy and goofy all the time.  You were upset in there, you can keep being upset.”

Seven nods and his face shifts. “I was, and I appreciate what you’re saying Yoosung but I do feel happy right now.  I thought,” he shrugs, “I don’t know what I thought, a lot of dumb stuff but none of it was right, so I’m happy.”

Yoosung nods. “It’s just, you pretend a lot.”

Seven shrugs, “It’s a habit.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I’ll try Yoosung,” he says seriously.

Zen and Saeran are in the garage when they pull in.  Zen is situating a helmet on his brother’s head and when he’s finished Saeran lifts the visor. “You brought your boyfriend home then?”

Seven tugs Yoosung closer and presses a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “Yep, taking yours for a ride?”

“I’m not-” Zen starts but then he stops and shrugs and Saeran freezes mid dirty look to smile slightly.

“Something wrong, Hyun,” Saeran asks with a smirk.

“Nope,” Zen shakes his head and tucks his braided hair into his jacket before he pulls his own helmet on. “Nothing’s wrong.”

The tall man throws one leg over his bike and stands it up.  Saeran follows wrapping his arms around Zen’s waist and hugging tightly with a smarmy wink in Yoosung’s directions. “I think there’s a rule about pants,” he offers before the bike roars to life and he snaps the visor of his helmet down.

“Are they-” Yoosung starts as the Seven hits the button to close the bay door behind the bike.

“Nah,” he says with a shrug. “I think Zen has a lot of work to do before he admits anything you should ignore them.

Yoosung laughs.

The house is clean.  It hadn’t been particularly messy since he’d come back with Saeran but it was clean from top to bottom and Seven is suspicious as to what the two of them had gotten into that they’d felt the need to be so thorough, but he pushes the thought out of his mind.  Yoosung was here, and Yoosung had called him his  _ boyfriend _ , so what if they were going to sit on a couch his brother had probably just fucked on.

Seven had a boyfriend, Yoosung liked him back.

They fall into their usual routine, Yoosung finds something to watch and Seven finds something to eat, except this time they sit on the couch so close that they’re thighs are touching.  Seven slips his hand into Yoosung’s and leans on him as the movie plays.  They watch three, hands getting slightly more curious, the two of them relaxing a little more with each minute that ticks by until Yoosung has to sit up to reach the remote and find another movie.

It’s getting dark and Saeran had texted to let his brother know he would be staying at Zen’s.  He assures Seven that he had his pills with him and that he will call if he feels uncomfortable and Seven gets the distinct impression that this has something to do with Yoosung being there. In a presumptuous but good way.

Seven wasn’t going to rush things anymore than he already had.

Yoosung is frowning at the TV screen flicking through shows, lost for what to watch for the first time that Seven can remember.  He scrolls through a few more films before he sets the remote on the table and looks over at Seven.

The room is dark, Yoosung’s face is glowing in the light of the TV and Seven can’t help but think he’s beautiful.

“You’re smiling,” Yoosung chuckles leaning into the back of the sofa.

“You’re kind of pretty,” Seven smirks.

Yoosung blushes.  Seven shuffles closer.

“Can I touch you now?” Yoosung says, his brows knit together and he looks at Seven impatiently like he can’t believe he has to ask.

Seven blushes and chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. “A little forward Yoosung, I’m a  _ Lady _ and I expect to be treated as such.”

Yoosung laughs and reaches for Seven, “You weren’t a  _ Lady or whatever _ on the phone last night,” he says raising an eyebrow.

“You got me there,” Seven swallows as Yoosung reaches for his hand.   He shuffles even closer to Yoosung watching him carefully for any sign that he could be uncomfortable but Yoosung only reaches for him eagerly.

Yoosung’s hands run along his arms tugging him closer until Seven is forced to throw a leg over him.  He settles in his lap.  He smiles victoriously and presses a small kiss to Seven’s lips.  He laughs and runs his hands through his hair nervously.

“This is ok?” Yoosung asks, his hands run along the tops of Seven’s thighs, up and down in a soothing motion.

Seven holds his breath for a moment, perched over Yoosung’s lap in his own home, Yoosung’s hands on him, Yoosung smiling beneath him. “I think I’m supposed to ask you that,” he smiles.

“You’re the one who looks nervous,” Yoosung points out.

Seven chews on his lip, “You know, I lied.”

Yoosung freezes. “Y-yeah? About what?”

“When I said kissing wasn’t a big deal,” he watches Yoosung’s face relax, he watches a lazy smile curl the corners of his mouth.  Seven leans in and presses his forehead to Yoosung’s, “It’s a really big deal, a really huge deal.”

“We don’t have to,” Yoosung says softly, reaching to cup Seven’s cheeks in his palms.

He doesn’t answer.  He keeps his forehead pressed to Yoosung’s and lets him touch his face, feels the soft stroke of Yousung’s thumbs on his cheeks and lets the pounding in his chest settle to a dull thud.  He lets himself sink comfortably into Yoosung’s lap as his legs relax and he lets his forehead drop to Yoosung’s shoulders as Yoosung let’s his hands fall from Seven’s face to wrap around his back.

Seven’s lips find Yoosung’s neck, his hands find the hem of his shirt and he sneaks his fingers underneath to feel soft warm flesh against his fingers.  He takes his time, kisses along the curve of his neck testing what makes Yoosung respond.  A tease of his tongue draws a soft sound, the press of his teeth a low rumble and the feel of Yoosung’s hands fisting in his shirt.  He bites and sucks a spot along his pulse point and Yoosung groans low and loud and shifts his hips.

Yoosung’s hands trail down his back as Seven makes his way kissing and biting from shoulder to ear.  Yoosung makes a number of sounds that spur him on, low groans and growls, whines and whimpers.  Seven kisses the line of his jaw and captures Yoosung’s lips with his own.  No need to tease his mouth opened, Yoosung immediately deepens the kiss.  His tongue flicks into Seven’s mouth, his hands hold Seven’s hips firm and Yoosung rolls his hips against him, pressing forward and sucking his tongue into his mouth.

He focuses on the the roll of hips, the rumbling purr in Yoosung’s chest, the feel of his fingers through denim.  He revels in the wet slide of their tongues and the press of their chests and the tightness of his pants until he can’t take it, he has to pull away and catch his breath,

“God,” Yoosung whispers, his fingers trace the skin above the waist of Seven’s jeans and he leans forward to drag his tongue along Seven’s collarbone, to trail lazy kisses up Seven’s neck.  Yoosung’s fingers reach the button of Seven’s pants and start to work it open and Seven freezes.

“Yoosung,” he says.

Big purple puppy eyes look up at him.

“You don’t,” his voice breaks as Yoosung pops the button and he eagerly shoves at his pants. Seven grabs his hand. “Yoosung you don’t have to rush.”

Seven expects him to whine, or whimper, to stammer or make some excuse, maybe beg.  That or nod, and go back to kissing.  Instead Yoosung looks up at him determined and almost growls, “I want this.”

Something deep inside Seven snaps and he almost whimpers.  Almost gives in, still Yoosung was a virgin, they’d kissed once before there were other things they could do.  Seven considers that he could get off like this.  Kissing and touching and pressing against one another, but Yoosung might want something more.

He shuffles backwards slightly, let’s go of Yoosung’s hands and bats his hands away.  Seven leans forward and kisses Yoosung while he fumbles with his pants.  He nips at his earlobe as he palms at Yoosung’s cock, says a silent and inappropriate prayer that Yoosung Kim is hard and whimpering for him.  That alone was proof of a benevolent god as far as Seven could tell.

He raises up and tugs Yoosung’s pants down his hips just far enough to free his cock.  Seven doesn’t look, he just keeps kissing Yoosung, slipping his tongue into Yoosung’s mouth and flicking along Yoosung’s as his thumb circles the tip of Yoosung’s cock.  His tongue fucks in and out of Yoosung’s mouth with the rhythm of his fist.  He swallows Yoosung’s whimpers.

He loses himself to the way it feels to make someone he cares for feel good.  He presses soft kisses to Yoosung’s jaw, laps at his throat and listens to the soft sounds spill past his lips as he works him.  He doesn’t notice the hand fumbling at his jeans until Yoosung has it wrapped tightly around the base of his cock.

Seven makes a strangled noise of surprise when Yoosung starts to stroke, lip caught between his teeth.  It’s been so long since someone else had touched him.  Even longer since he really wanted them to.  His pace falters and all he can do is press his forehead against Yoosung’s shoulder.

The sounds he makes are pathetic. Whimpers and sobs and hiccups as his hips stutter in his bestfriend’s hand.  He let’s go of Yoosung and runs his hands along his belly.

“Hng, ffffuu, Y-Yoosung,” he whines.  He’s so close, god he doesn’t want to cum yet, doesn’t want to embarrass himself when all this is new to Yoosung.

“Sh-should we go to your bedroom?” Yoosung whispers, he’s watching Seven so intently, his usually bright eyes dark and Seven nods.

He curses the whine he makes and the involuntary shudder that follows Yoosung letting him go.  They tuck themselves back into their pants when they stand and Seven begins to lead the way.  Yoosung’s hand finds his in the dark as they step into the hallway and Seven barely has the door open before Yoosung has pressed himself against him.  Mouth on his neck tugging his shirt up and pulling it over his head with a bit of struggle.

“Yoosung, slow down,” Seven finds himself laughing.

“Don’t wanna,” Yoosung grunts pulling his own shirt off and reaching for Seven, kissing him again and bullying him back until the back of his knees hit the bed.  Seven lets himself fall, a little surprised at the turn this has taken, a little interested in where Yoosung is going to take this and a lot turned on.

Yoosung’s hand trails the length of Seven’s body and his face looks awed.  Seven fights the urge to shove the soft hands away as they trace the dips and curves of his torso.  No one ever expected him to be more than wiry, everyone was always surprised that he had actual muscles.  As if the agency wouldn’t have physical requirements.  

No one had ever looked at him with the reverence that showed on Yoosung’s face.

“Wow,” he whispers, hooking his fingers into Seven’s pants and dragging them down his hips.

Seven sucks in a breath and sits up, “Yoosung,” he says again, “slow down.”

Yoosung takes him by the face and kisses him roughly, leaving him bleary eyed and panting when he lets him go. 

When Seven can focus again Yoosung looks nervous. “D-do you not want to?”

He reaches for him, “Are  _ you _ sure you do?  We have time Yoosung.  We don’t have to do everything you haven’t done tonight.”

“I,” Yoosung takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “I want to sleep with you,” he says decidedly slipping his own pants off his hips and letting them fall to his feet. “If you want to, you know,  _ sleep with me _ .”

“More than sleep,” Seven smirks and shimmies up the bed leaving room for Yoosung as he follows, kneeling between his feet and smiling a bit smugly.  

He presses a kiss to Seven’s thigh on his way up, another to his hip, his navel.  He glances up and flicks his tongue experimentally over Seven’s nipple and smirks at the hiss that passes his lips.  Seven’s hands trail softly up and down Yoosung’s thighs, he lets him do what he wants, let’s him explore and touch, kiss and nip.  

He slots their lips together when he’s satisfied with the trail of kisses he’s left, his hand’s find Seven’s and lead long fingers to tangle in his hair.  Yoosung’s hands stroke down Seven’s side, they squeeze at his hips tugging and kneeding until Seven can’t help but wrap his legs around the smaller man’s waist.

Yoosung groans and his hips buck and Seven chuckles.

“I-I want,” Yoosung pants, his eyes are unfocused, his already plump lips swollen.

Seven swallows.  He cards his fingers through Yoosung’s hair, brushing it out of his face.  He watches him carefully to be sure he’s not changing his mind, strokes a thumb down his cheek and loosens his legs. “Everything you need is in the drawer of the night stand,” he says and swallows thickly.

Yoosung doesn’t question him, he nods and blushes and crawls the short distance to reach the drawer.

Seven watches him stare at the condom and the bottle of lube and he wonders if he should offer advice or that would startle him, insult him maybe.  Yoosung shakes his head, bites his lip and nods, as if he’s having a quiet conversation with himself and then he pops the top to the lube and squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers.

“Gee, Yoosungie, have you don’t this before?”

Yoosung shakes his head, his adam’s apple bobs, and he leans forward.  His lips find the curve of Seven’s neck and one finger presses lightly at his hole.

“Go ahead,” he says softly and Yoosung nods against his neck finger pressing into him, “you don’t have to go slow,” Seven says, surprised how shy Yoosung can make him feel, “I’ve done this before.”

Yoosung’s breath catches and if they both were not so nervous maybe he’d have laughed.

“I-is Saeyoung you’re real name,” Yoosung whispers between kisses.  He adds another finger.

“Mm’yeah,” Seven nods, he bites his lip, “hng, Yoosung, yeah.”

“Can I c-call you that.”

“Please,” Seven whimpers, “yes, please call me Saeyoung.”

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung breathes and the word ghosts across his flesh. “Can I-”

“Fuck me Yoosung, hng god please,” Seven can’t believe he begging, but god, Yoosung could have fucked him, didn’t need to prep him, he doesn’t really care.  Kinda likes the pain as long as there’s enough lube, as long as he didn’t go too fast.

Yoosung tenses.  He presses another kiss just below Seven’s ear and sits back on his heals.  

Seven watches him stroke himself a few times before he rolls the condom on. “God,” he groans, “I’ve never noticed how fucking hot you are, Yoosung.”

Yoosung blushes and lines himself up, pushes in slowly and Seven lets his head roll back, arches his back against the mattress rolls his hips, smiles at the yelp Yoosung makes when he forces him to rush the last inch.  Then he stills and waits, and watches.

Yoosung’s hands rest on his hips, they trail up his abdomen and he runs a thumb over Seven’s nipple.

“You ok?” Seven asks.  He wants to roll his hips, urge him to move.  He wants Yoosung to fuck him into the mattress.  He wants to forget everything but this, wants every horrible thing that’s happened since he found himself standing in front of Yoosung Kim at the very first RFA party.

“C-can I move?” Yoosung whispers.

Seven giggles, he nods.

Yoosung pulls out  slowly and pushes in again. “G-god,” he groans, “it’s, you’re, hmng, god.”

Seven chuckles, he rolls his hips pressing Yoosung deeper, arching his back until he feels him hit  _ that _ spot and then he groans.  His hands find Yoosung’s hair again and he pushes back with every thrust.  Yoosung snaps his hips, his movements get faster, rougher, and soon he’s panting between kisses, purple eyes unfocused, and Seven can’t watch him anylonger.

He lets his head roll back, his hand falls to his cock and he strokes himself in time with Yoosungs thrusts.

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung coos and the spring of fire in his belly tightens.  Yoosung bats his hand away and replaces it with his own.  Seven’s hips jerk and his back arches off the mattress and he barely has time to whisper out a warning before his body tenses and he cums into Yoosung’s hand.

Cries out his name, babbles incoherently, he might have even  _ thanked _ him.

“Y-you’re so tight,” Yoosung groans, his hips stutter and Seven twitches and jerks as he continues to stroke.

“G-god, Y-yoosung, please,  _ god, please s-stop,  _ I can’t,” he whines.

And Yoosung drops him. He pitches forward, hands braced on either side of Saeyoung as he peppers him with sloppy frantic kisses.  Each one punctuated by his name and a whimper.  Seven keeps his fingers tight in Yoosung’s hair.  He tugs gently and whispers praises into his ear until Yoosung’s hips stutter and he cries out some combination of  _ Seven _ and  _ Saeyoung _ and  _ oh my god _ .

Seven does his best to keep his hips rolling, to urge him to keep fucking through his orgasm until Yoosung collapses on top of him, pressing soft lazy kisses to his cheek and jaw.

They lay there until Seven can’t stand the weight on top of him.  Until he needs to take a proper breath.  He shifts his hips until Yoosung’s soft penis slips out from between his cheeks.  Yoosung whines and shifts but he doesn’t fight when Seven rolls him gently off of him.

“I can stay here tonight right?” He yawns batting at Seven’s hand as he pulls the condom away.

“No way Cutie,” Seven chuckles, “leave your money on the dresser I’ll call you a cab.”

“Wh-what?” Yoosung stammers, pushing himself up on one elbow and watching as Seven disappears naked into the hallway.

“I’m kidding, of course you can stay,” Seven smirks as he pops back into the room, a steaming washcloth in his hand.  He tosses it to Yoosung, who cleans his hands and his groin and a spot on the bedspread Seven thinks might actually be a few days old.  But he doesn’t say anything.  When he’s done he tosses the washcloth into the pile of laundry in the corner and gathers up their boxers from the floor, tossing Yoosung his.

They curl up together in Seven’s bed, Yoosung wrapping his whole body around Seven and Seven doing the same, tucking Yoosung’s head under his chin and falling asleep to sound of him breathing.

*

“You two are spending an awful lot of time together,” Kit smiles.

Weeks have passed and Seven follows Yoosung into the coffee shop to watch him study.  Seven spent a lot of time watching Yoosung study.  Rewarding him with kisses and sweets and gaming breaks.  It was easy to watch Yoosung do anything and since he made his own hours for Jumin he had the time.

Saeran still had his moments but it seems Yoosung was a salve for both the Chois.  He never shied from helping with an episode, learned quickly where to to find Saeran’s pills and the first aid kit.  His vet training came in handy on the occasions where Saeran was caught giving in to urges to hurt himself.

It helped that his brother found Yoosung easy to talk to.  When he couldn’t talk to Seven, or Zen, or Kit, he could always talk to Yoosung. Seven was indebted to his boyfriend in anyway one could be indebted to a person.  Unlike the Agency he found he didn’t mind.

Yoosung blushes as he takes the coffee Kit is holding out to him. “Y-yeah I guess we are.”

Seven smiles.  He’s sure the RFA all know.  Zen definitely knows but he’s got his own secrets to keep, he won’t out them.  Seven doesn’t mind.  He’d shout it from the rooftop.  He’d let Jumin Han pay to broadcast it to the world.  Yoosung Kim is his boyfriend.  Yoosung Kim loves Saeyoung Choi.  

But Yoosung was still in the closet, so Seven smiles and nods and doesn’t get offended if Yoosung drops his hand suddenly when they run into his friends.

“I’m just helping him study,” Seven shrugs, accepting a hot chocolate and a scone from Kit and taking a seat next to Yoosung.

The cafe is empty except for the four of them.  Seven and Yoosung at a table out front, Kit behind the counter and Jaehee making pastries in the kitchen.

“Well,” Yoosung says glancing around, “you’re my  _ boyfriend _ too.”  He says it like he’s testing a hypothesis.

Kit drops the milk foamer she was cleaning.

“ _ I’m what _ ,” Seven shouts in mock surprise.

“Shut up,” Yoosung laughs.

“How long,” Jaehee calls as she marches out of the kitchen, “how long have you been boyfriends?”

Kit is laughing and Yoosung is blushing and Seven watches a look pass between them. “I don’t, I mean, a few weeks I guess?” Yoosung answers, startled.

“How many weeks, there’s a pool.” Kit explains.

“A what?” Yoosung stammers.

“Three weeks?” Jaehee insists,” I had three weeks, if it’s three weeks Jumin Han owes me a large sum of money.”

Yoosung looks at Seven, they both know it’s closer to five but they nod at one another and shrug. “Yeah three sounds right,” Seven sips at his Hot Chocolate.

Jaehee grabs Kit by the apron and plants a kiss on her lips, the shorter woman smiles and blushes and looks a little dazed as she watches her march back into the kitchen and Seven decides not to point out the flour handprints on her bottom as revenge for placing bets on him and Yoosung.

The rest of the RFA knows for sure by the evening.  There are various awkward messages of congratulations.  Seven teases Zen vaguely about his brother, subtly enough that no one else gets it but Zen still pouts, Saeran still throws things at him with a slight smirk on his face.  They gang up on Yoosung, little pranks that he’d never pull off on his own and Seven is glad.

He has his brother, and he has his boyfriend, and he has a  _ life. _

The next party happens a few weeks later.  Yoosung and Zen help him create a protective bubble when Saeran insists he wants to go, they leave early.  Though Saeran does a good job of pretending he’s ok the three of them can see the way he grits his teeth and forces himself to pretend and Seven is struck again by how stupid he’d been to try to do any of this alone.

He’s not alone, he’s never been alone even when he tried his damnedest to be.  Yoosung Kim and the RFA were always there and now he has his brother.  The Agency, Mint Eye, it all seems like a bad dream when the four of them are sitting in his living room eating Pizza and arguing over what to watch.

Seven is happy.  For the first time in his life he’s happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that, sorry for the name change? I hope you liked it.
> 
> If anyone is interested here's the playlist I listened to while I wrote https://open.spotify.com/user/katskurai/playlist/3xxxTJV9NXok4J80pRdowM


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